Dear...

Dear Mom~Mom,

Three years ago today we lost you.  But it wasn't just us that lost you, it was the world.  The world lost the most stunning, kind, vulgar woman it would ever know.  I look back now and regret not taking advantage of every day you were alive, because it wasn't until you were gone that I realized how vital you were to the amazing group of people that I'm lucky enough to call my cousins, aunts, and uncles.  I wouldn't say you were the glue that held us together, because we're closer and stronger than most families I know.  Instead, I would say that we were like a present.  And you were the delicate yet slightly crude bow wrapped around us that made the gift that much better.

You were the one that was always there.  You were at every school play, every birthday, every violin concert.  You would sit there with your eyes closed and a smile on your face, soaking in every note, every pull of the bow.  I wish that you were still around to have heard me sing at my a cappella performances.  

You called me your little debutante.  It felt good to know that you always saw something special in me, even when I was the angry, messy cousin that hated the world and everything in it.  The best advice you ever told me, that anyone will ever tell me, was to grab the world by the ass and give it a good spin.  I've been grabbing ever since.

I still have all of the cards you gave me over the 19 years I knew you.  The cards that were really just the front of old cards that you had collected over the years and ripped the cover off of to reuse.  You would draw dozens of smiley faces around every edge and corner of the paper, and underline any word that you felt needed emphasis, even if it was just the word "happy" or "day".  I remember when you were so excited to buy your bright red walking shoes, and I remember when you spent an entire Christmas telling all of the cousins about your adventures necking with mafioso down by the lake.  

I remember the little white lies you used to tell because you didn't want anybody to be inconvenienced or hurt, even though those little white lies usually caused more trouble than they were worth.

I remember that you used to babysit me and my brother and play Monopoly with us for hours.  You used to cook with Len and Chris and go walking with Kelsey and Rachael.  You would watch the Price is Right with Heather, Kelly, and Alyssa, and every time you laughed, you would kick your legs out in front of you and wiggle your feet.

There were so many times that you bothered me, that I resented the fact that you were constantly throwing out our soda cans before we even took two sips, or cleaning up our rooms while we were at school so when we came home we had no idea where anything was.  Sorry.

I was never one to believe in God and heaven, and I still don't.  But you once said that when you die, you want to forever be 21 years old, wearing a little black dress and drinking a martini.  So that's how I imagine you.  Sitting on a barstool on a cloud, with your legs crossed and a drink in your hand.  

I know you're not physically here anymore, but at the same time, you're everywhere.  You were at Heather's wedding, you were at my college graduation, you're watching me write this right now.  Probably with Cocoa and Pop-Pop Charles.  Or so I like to think.

So Mom~Mom, I guess I just want to say I miss you and I love you, because I know I didn't say it nearly enough when you were alive.  But I do.  I love you and we're all who we are because of you.  So thank you.  And I hope that martini is damn good.

Love forever and ever,

Your Little Debutante