Dear Ima (what I called my mom),
Tonight is the eighth night of Hanukkah which means its been eleven years since you passed away. I actually hate writing “passed away”. What a lame euphemism. I’ll just say you “kicked the oxygen habit”.
Anyhow, it being the anniversary of you “kicking the oxygen habit”, I found it appropriate to write to you instead of stew in the sadness.
I’ll begin by bluntly admitting that life sure sucks without you. Its so obnoxious listening to girls gab about how annoying their moms are when they comment on their wasted photos of themselves on facebook. Oh right, you don’t know what facebook is…eh, I’ll spare you the details. Anyhow, I feel like punching most people that complain about their moms. It was especially tough in high school. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to take dad to get bras and tampons? Ok, its not as embarrassing as farting loudly with Brad Pitt in front of you, but you get the idea. Bottom line: I wanted you around.
I often think about what life would be like if you were around. I’m not sure 2011 could handle you. I mean, I know if they had iphones back when you were around, you would super glue that thing to your palm. You’d text and drive, look up shit on google and drive, online shop and drive…oh mom, you were a great many things but you were a terrible driver.
Oh and who can forget about the whole “pot” thing!
Yes mom, you would no longer need to grow your own weed because you can use it for “medicinal” purposes in California! I found it hilarious you grew weed next to your azaleas. You always did have a green thumb. I totally didn’t get that gene. All plants in my house die within days. I’m like the grim reaper of house plants.
But lately, I REALLY want you around. I’ll be honest, life is shitty right now. Dad has terminal brain cancer. I know. Fucking cancer. First you with boob-cancer and now him…this is a horrible family trend. You’d think with being able to shop online while driving that they would have cured cancer by now.
I’m trying to be strong and take care of myself while taking care of dad, but I’ll admit: I’m better at taking care of others. You were so good at both and hence I really hope I grow to be even half the incredible woman you were. I know I got your sense of humor, but honestly, I’m way funnier than you. Seriously, mom. I’m like, really funny. And I don’t say that too people when I meet them cause that automatically makes you unfunny so lets just keep that between you and me. Ok?
Ok, I’m gonna wrap this up so you can go back to talking to Elvis or Amy Winehouse or whoever else is up there.
I miss you lots.
I know you guys left questions about Hanukkah from this post and I will answer them tomorrow. But the the eighth night is very emotionally loaded for me so this letter what you got 😉
No real question today. Just tell me something about your mom that you wish rubbed off on you. And give your mom a hug if you can