Dear Allison...still so much that I want you to know, I suppose I would never run out of words to express, love to share, thoughts to convey. It's not going to stop just because you are gone. Everything is the same, yet it is all so different. I can express to you, as I did when you were here, but your passage has unleashed more in me than I ever even knew existed. I have spoken of the "onion" before, but it's as if the layers just peel off, slowly, gingerly, tenderly, never quite getting to the core. That's my analogy, and you know your mother, I must always have one! Instead of being in the classroom teaching English and Writing, and all other subjects in between, I am alone at a computer, with thoughts and lessons that are my own to learn, and right now, you are my audience. And today, I feel as though another layer has peeled off, very thin, paper thin really, and oh, so fragile. I am living, and I am making plans, and I am breathing well, for the moment. And I savor that when it comes. But to tell you the truth, it can bring fear, too. Fear of the unknown, fear of the times ahead that I just don't want to face, fear that I will forget...not forget you, of course, but forget the intensity of loss, the understanding, the empathy, the knowledge that this life is so much bigger than any of us can comprehend, fear that I will just resume life as it was, just plain fear. I am afraid that in giving up the pain, I will not remember that you are gone. How complex this is, this condition of grief. I want it gone from my life, stripped forever, I want to laugh a real laugh, shed the emotional fatigue, but at what cost will that happen? Will I forget? Or do I really need to remember? Do I really need to remember the painful parts of your life, your journey? Do I really need to recall with intense, gut wrenching emotion the day your sister shaved your head and you cried as you looked in the mirror, as you took a private moment to adjust to the new you? Or do I simply need to recall the moment you stepped out into the wide open and insisted that we all carry on, but could we please stop to find you a hat or scarf? Do I really need to remember the times when you waited so patiently for the shots that cost thousands of dollars, waited for insurance authorization, with me barely breathing, planning and plotting how we would find you that relief IF the insurance denied the request? Or do I simply need to recall the beauty of your smile and spirit, the halo that seemed to surround you as you sat in the chemotherapy chair, with your pink backpack filled with activities and snacks, waiting as if you were waiting to board an airplane, filled with joyful anticipation and delight...WHO does that? You, that's who!

Allison, can I admit my fear to you, do you understand it? Do you know that I am afraid at times, to be the person I now am, to move in new directions, and to bring to my soul the most positive energy and healing that can be devoured? Do you know that I am afraid to abandon the "old" way of doing things for the "new" way just because I don't know how to go on...do you know that fear can hold me back from who I am supposed to be, what I am supposed to know, and what I am supposed to become? Do you know that most will never understand the place in which I now stand? Most will not comprehend the complexities, the "layers" of grief, and the shedding of the old self? I am no longer who I was, and I don't know how to explain that...do I even need to, and does anyone really need an explanation? I have not moved "past" anything or anyone, but it is all different now. There is no turning back. There is only moving, simply moving, and notice I don't say forward, I just say moving. I am moving, and through the grace of God, and your spirit that guides me, I can honestly say I am a mover and a shaker. I am not still, unless I need to be, to listen, to study, to grasp life, and savor the moment.

Your spirit tells me, not in a morbid way, that there is not much time left on earth, for me, for your family, friends, loved ones. That doesn't mean today, that could mean twenty years, thirty years, or it can mean a day, a month, a year. God gives me today, and together, you and He help me live it. I am praying about my fears, I am asking that each step of the way, as the layers of that "onion" fall off, or get peeled off, that I will have the strength to face the new part, the part of my life that I cannot see, that I will not be afraid, that I will find myself, and I will move in the direction that God desires.

As your scripture states, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me". And in knowing that, how can I be afraid at all, this day, or any other day.

My heart beats faster and faster, in love and in missing you, but knowing you live,
Mom