Mom,
Yesterday it was your birthday and Gale’s. It must have been a special treat for you to give birth to a daughter on your birthday. It’s been 26 years since you’ve been gone and 29 years since Gale died. I think about you both often.
On more than one occasion I’ve heard the refrain, “I’m glad my mother isn’t alive to see this.” And that’s true. There are things happening in the world today that I’m glad you’re not here to see, as they would challenge your ideals and your hopes for the world. But, then again, there are things I would want you to see and share.
I wish you were alive to see that I’m healthy, content, successful and happily married.
I’m glad you aren’t alive to see that this country that you loved so much seems to be in such tatters, with people not just disagreeing, but hating each other, unable to find a middle ground. You would not want to see what has happened since you admonished me, “regardless of the victor, the country will go on and people will learn to adjust.”
I wish you were alive to see your grandchildren, Johnathan, Jake and Lauren, adults with values, morals, and direction.
I’m glad you aren’t alive to see the diminishment of civility in the world. You always taught me to be polite and be respectful. These days, some people would rather run you off the side of the road than orderly yield every-other-car.
I wish you were alive to see how your sister Seemah has made a life in Jerusalem with her daughter, son-in-law and (many) children. And you would be happy to see that she and I are working on writing down the story of our family for future generations to enjoy.
I’m glad you aren’t alive to see the increase in stupidity in the world, including the decline of proper English and the diminishment of the value of Western civilization. For someone who taught me the value of great literature—you would be appalled with the banning of great book, as well as by the general lack of knowledge of history, geography, philosophy and the arts.
I wish you were alive to see the science, medical advances, and technology that have made life easier, healthier, and safer.
I’m glad you’re not alive to see how technology has eaten away about human interactions and weaponized communications.
I wish you were alive to see all the work being done by so many people, many in faith-based communities, serving their larger communities and the underserved.
I’m glad you’re not alive to witness the rise in antisemitism and racist attacks and the emergence of fascists, skinheads, racists and murderers from behind their rocks and meeting each other via social media.
I wish you were alive because I have so much to share with you everyday.
I’m glad you’re not alive to see that your “little Pokemon” died. Not only do I know how sad it would make you but I know you would hate to see the grief it brought to his parents.
Most of all, I wish you were here. Last weekend, we heard one of your favorite pieces, Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto. As a violinist you taught me appreciation of classical music, but the violin especially. Closing my eyes, it was hard not to imagine you being there.
Whenever I go to the theatre, hear a good joke, or read a good book, I want to give you a call. I wish you were still around to share it all.
Much love,
Glenn
From the archives:
Wow. What a beautiful letter to your Mother. She would be so proud of you! Thanks for sharing this heartfelt message.