Letter to my mom
Dear Mom,
Things just aren't the same since you left us. I inquired about a refund on the new heart as the guarantee implied you would have an extra 10 or 15 years of use with it. No such luck. I guess you get what you pay for. I knew a retread was a bad idea when it comes to body organs.
Anyway, I guess things are about as good as can be expected. I know I miss you an awful lot and wish I could hear the sound of your voice. As for your face and smile, I see it in my minds eye every day and night. That was pretty funny the way you croaked without a will. It has proven to be an interesting challenge to deal with your piles of crap post you. Ha ha ha, I knew you'd get the last laugh.
Wanna hear something funny? I have been discovering that I am not as funny as I thought. I think I will partially blame you for this unfortunate turn of events. You see, you laughed at everything that I ever said or did. It gave me the feeling that I was funny. Now that my best audience and biggest fan isn't around, the painful truth is becoming evident.
I remember how the other kids were always jealous of my ability to make you laugh when you were yelling at us or trying to discipline us.
You always let me off easy trying desperately to hide your smile and leaving the room so that you could go laugh.
God I miss you. I knew this day would come, and I mentally prepared myself for it for years. . . but alas. . . nothing prepared me for the reality of losing my best friend.
I miss you mom, we'll talk later -
posted by Tom Frank at 4:50 PM
2 Comments:
Tom, please do not loose confidence in yourself. You are a great magician and terrific comedian. You always manage to make me smile. :) Infact, Gram had saved a message you had left on the voice mail, I don't know how long ago, and if I need a smile, I listen to it. Its you singing the "Oscar Mayer Weiner" song. I love you.
4:29 PM
Tom, does the letter help? I keep looking for something to soothe the loss. On my way to the airport yesterday the sun was shining, Ranier filled the windshield, and I was compelled to ask myself the question, "If you had the choice, would you have prolonged your dad or brother's lives by even one more day?" I couldn't answer yes to either, so I am now learning to let go of the grief and hold fast to the love and the memories. Still not easy, but hopefully less painful. I wish you the best in your journey through the grief, but you know - the more wonderful the person was, the harder it is to go through it. By the way, she didn't only laugh because you were her son. You really are funny, and you really do touch the people for whom you perform, and to whom you are a friend. Don't sell her son short.
Love,
Mark
11:01 AM
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