Dear Figgy,
I love you with all my heart. You're 18, and I still wish I could protect you and solve your problems. Make sure your sky-blue fleece vest, the one that matches your eyes, is clean in first grade. Rinse out your lunchbox with soap and water every night so it won't smell sour. Get you to the dentist, the doctor, the orthodontist.
But I can't fix everything now, and it's foolish to think I could even then. I couldn't protect you when your best friend switched allegiances--no more than my mother could protect me when mine did the same back at Saint Mary's. Our mothers aren't sitting with us in the cafeteria, in gym, at recess.
And even if I could fix every problem now, that wouldn't help you. You would never grow up, like some odd female version of Peter Pan in a green felt hat. [You had one of those, BTW, when you were small. Remember? I think it was from Kevin.]. And I, I would be some weird puppet master. That's not what I want for either one of us.
You told Dad last week that you don't want to grow up...that you'd like to be like Punch, getting baths and being read to......and when you were younger, you really believed in Belinda, the garden fairy who left you notes handwritten in tiny script. You found them when you woke. You loved her so.
But now it's time to grow up...to be strong....to muddle through...once again. And don't you see that the beauty of Belinda lives in you....the dancing, loving merriment.....the light spirit...the flower wreath you've worn.....the purple garden dahlias in your hair.....
I can't always get the words out, and often, you don't give me the chance. But if I could speak them, and if you could hear them, I would tell you that I will always love you, no matter what. I'm crying as I write this. My eyes and nose are dripping. Pause: Let me run to get a paper towel.
You are my Figgy, my golden Figgy. I hope and pray that you find your way safely on life's road. It isn't always smoothly paved, but to tell you the truth,and I know this sounds preachy, the ditches and detours, the potholes and rough patches often help shape us into stronger, smarter, more compassionate people.
I hope and pray, hope and pray.
I love you.
Love always, Mama
I love you with all my heart. You're 18, and I still wish I could protect you and solve your problems. Make sure your sky-blue fleece vest, the one that matches your eyes, is clean in first grade. Rinse out your lunchbox with soap and water every night so it won't smell sour. Get you to the dentist, the doctor, the orthodontist.
But I can't fix everything now, and it's foolish to think I could even then. I couldn't protect you when your best friend switched allegiances--no more than my mother could protect me when mine did the same back at Saint Mary's. Our mothers aren't sitting with us in the cafeteria, in gym, at recess.
And even if I could fix every problem now, that wouldn't help you. You would never grow up, like some odd female version of Peter Pan in a green felt hat. [You had one of those, BTW, when you were small. Remember? I think it was from Kevin.]. And I, I would be some weird puppet master. That's not what I want for either one of us.
You told Dad last week that you don't want to grow up...that you'd like to be like Punch, getting baths and being read to......and when you were younger, you really believed in Belinda, the garden fairy who left you notes handwritten in tiny script. You found them when you woke. You loved her so.
But now it's time to grow up...to be strong....to muddle through...once again. And don't you see that the beauty of Belinda lives in you....the dancing, loving merriment.....the light spirit...the flower wreath you've worn.....the purple garden dahlias in your hair.....
I can't always get the words out, and often, you don't give me the chance. But if I could speak them, and if you could hear them, I would tell you that I will always love you, no matter what. I'm crying as I write this. My eyes and nose are dripping. Pause: Let me run to get a paper towel.
You are my Figgy, my golden Figgy. I hope and pray that you find your way safely on life's road. It isn't always smoothly paved, but to tell you the truth,and I know this sounds preachy, the ditches and detours, the potholes and rough patches often help shape us into stronger, smarter, more compassionate people.
I hope and pray, hope and pray.
I love you.
Love always, Mama
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That's it. That's what you need to say, Alice. Even if she can't listen now, that's exactly what you need to say, to her and to you. To all of us as we struggle on both sides of this new transition. Sending good wishes.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful post. I agree with Kim, you needed to say these things and I’m glad that you shared them with us. I can see backwards ten years ago for me, and if I could have, I would have conveyed those same sentiments to L. at age 18. Now, fast forward ten years and I see L. as a confident young woman who makes mature decisions regarding everything in her life. And, if she does need help with something, she asks us! That is something that I never thought would happen. Alice, Figgy will grow up a lot in the next few years and you will be so proud! You did your job, and now it all has to take hold. Love, Lin
ReplyDeleteP.S. Thank you for the birthday call. It really meant a lot to me.
Hi Kim.....um, I haven't had Figgy read this yet...but I will....and thank you for your support.....Lin, thank you, too. I'm so glad we spoke on your birthday. Kim and Lin, thank you for caring. love alice
ReplyDeleteYou def should share this with her, Alice. I don't know everything that is going on, but it sounds like a beautiful way to say something that prob needs to be heard by both of you in a way.
ReplyDeleteHi Kim. I had Figgy read it. And you're right, it needs to be heard by both of us. love, alice hope your vacay was great.
ReplyDeletehang in there, honey
ReplyDelete