Cecelia H. Wassam
November 20, 1927
December 9, 2000
I decided there were some things I wanted... no needed to say to my ma that I didn't get to say before she died. Things that were keeping me up at night and causing the pain and the heartache of those first few hours after I got the phone call that she had died to remain raw.
My idea was simple. Each year on the anniversary of her death, Christmas morning and New Year's Day, I would write my ma a letter. I would tell her everything I wished I had been able to tell her throughout the year. Tell her how much I miss her. Tell her how I long to see her again. Then I would pack the journal away with all my Christmas decorations until the following year.
I also added one thing that I do every December 9 - I read though the first few entries I wrote. Without fail, even before I finish the first line, I'm bawling like a baby. But it's a letter to my ma. Written on my first Christmas morning without her. And daggum I missed her so.
Today is the 9th anniversary of my ma's death. I still miss her so much it hurts. I still long for one last hug and kiss from her like you can't even imagine (or maybe some of you can - know that I totally feel your pain). I can still, just barely, hear her calling my name like she did when I was 8 playing over at the Knecht's. I fear that someday I will forget what her voice sounded like.
In a little bit I'm going to open up that journal for the first time this season. I've got a roll of toilet paper nearby (I ran out of Kleenex!!), my cat curled up right next to me, and Lucy sleeping soundly on her bed in the corner. I guess I'm ready...