Dear Susan,
You are always writing letters to your children - in hopes of them one day reading them and understanding what they meant to you. Who they were at that particular time in their lives. And perhaps, learning a little bit more about the woman they call mom. You see, and you tell them this often, before you were "mom", you were Susan.
You had an entire life before them. And struggled with so many of the same things. Perhaps more so.
The pickiest of eaters.
The moodiest of girls.
You too were lazy and slept till noon.
Your mother before you tiptoed around in the early mornings so you could do so.
And though you hate to admit it, so many other things you do as a mother you learned from her.
Different. But the same.
Your beloved uncle Boris died at 50. Only now do you realize how young he was.
And with each passing year, somehow 60, 70 and beyond - well, they don't seem old anymore.
Susan, you have made mistakes. Wrong choices.
And you will have put faith and love in many who did not deserve it.
But from each of these people, you will have learned valuable lessons.
Somehow, through it all, you are still the most forgiving person you know.
It takes a lot for you to hold hatred. To not continue to see the good in people. To let go.
But when you finally do, you will have learned that they didn't deserve your goodness in the first place.
You will question yourself.
You will replay moments in your mind.
And you will wonder how you didn't see all of it sooner.
Today, on your 50th Birthday, you will learn that there are Judas' among us. And that you have met more than your fair share of them.
You will learn that things that happened in childhood will carry you through life.
And though they will be sometimes be foggy, your memories will be good ones.
Times at the beach.
Times waiting for your ever so social mother to come out to the car when you were all but asleep.
All the family singing.
Which you thought was so ridiculous then, will move you to tears now.
You will have cried many times about the one day loss of your parents. The mere thought of it always having been too much.
And this past year will have tried you.
You will almost have lost your beloved dad. And he will have changed. You will need to remember the man he was because he too will face his own challenges and struggles that you may not always understand.
Getting old is hard.
Your mom will have been hospitalized for far too long.
And you will see the strongest person you ever knew become weak and childlike.
You will have to juggle keeping up at home, work and hospital visits.
You will have become a caretaker.
Your roles will have reversed.
And oh, there will be a pandemic.
Susan, your first love will break you.
It will.
It has deep roots and most of them are painful. They will leave you not knowing what true love is.
They will leave you thinking it has to hurt to be love.
And you will have struggled with this for a long time.
It will make you accept less.
It will have you thinking it is o.k.
Sometimes, it will have you thinking you deserve it.
But then, one day.
One fine day.
Someone will come along and change all that.
And only then, then, will you learn what it means to truly get and give love.
It will be worth the wait.
You are a good mother.
You will always prefer cats to dogs.
You love fresh crisp sheets and a clean house.
You love the written word and photographs.
When life is hard, you are extra nostalgic.
Of ten getting lost in memories of years gone by.
You are funny.
You always put on a brave face. Even on hard days.
And you are a good friend.
Sometimes, getting a word in with you is tough.
You talk too much.
You think too fast.
And you laugh too loud.
You love chocolate. Coffee. Cookies.
And the simplest of food.
You are social. But you love to be alone.
You are a hugger.
You are a collector.
You are a good daughter.
Happy Birthday to you.
xo
