A letter to the 24 years old me: One day you will not feel alone
On my 24th birthday my mom came over to my flat and we made a gorgeous pink skirt for me to wear on my birthday.
I walked her back to the bus station.
Back then, there were frequent bus bombings in Israel. I watched her go on the bus. Started walking back home but kept looking back, stopping, thinking what if.
What if this was the last afternoon we spent together.
What if now I’ll hear this huge boom and that’s it?
It didn’t happen.
Not then, not on a bus.
Two months later, she flew with my dad to celebrate her 50th birthday in Thailand and died on a plane. I didn’t have the chance to look back. It was sudden. 12 years passed and grief took its time with me. It took me years to cry or really dig in.
I faced it again upon turning a mom myself. I miss her terribly when my girls have a fever, or do something new and awesome such as climbing a step, standing up or drawing something wonderful.
I’m much older now, and when looking back, there are so many things I want to say to that young woman who lost her mom.
This is my letter to the 24 years old me who didn’t cry for a long time (sent from 12 years into the future):
One day you will meet that one guy who will be definitely more than you’ve expected.
One day you will have two wonderful girls.
One day (and night) you will be able to cry and you would cry so much over this unbearable loss.
One day you will not feel alone.
One day you will be hugged in a way that could replace her hugs. It will be different but comforting and encouraging.
Your childish dreams will come true. Can’t tell you how (even though I’m much older than you are) but they just will… it is magic.
And you will still miss your mom. You will miss her terribly. And one day your 3-years-old girl will come to you and say “your mom will always be with you,” and she’ll be so right.
I love you.