To that woman, so like my own mother...

This letter is written by Suzanne.  Suzanne is a talented lady in so many ways!  I always enjoy the times I am around her.  Very insightful and full of life!  

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To that woman, so like my own mother in her 60s,

You are tired. I notice this immediately. Your tiredness is so very different from my own which comes from living a scattered life of working, mothering, friending, and trying to carve out a few sacred moments to just be and to just breathe.

My suspicion is that your tiredness is born of something closer to worry and fear and sorrow. I see you watching the man you chose to spend your life with declining so much faster than you and contemplating all those statistics about the ratio of widows to widowers. We have all heard those numbers but for you, they send shivers of fear into your heart.

More likely than not, by this point you have said your goodbyes to your own mother and now, perhaps you yourself are the matriarch. A title you would gladly trade for the chance to kiss her cheek and rub lotion into her hands again.

Your children have their own lives and yet they are still with you everywhere you go. The phone calls just have to be enough even though they aren't.

Perpetually lost keys and forgotten appointments might be something more than just a slip of the mind. It's easier to pretend that they are normal than to consider what they might mean when you put the clues all together.

I want you to know that I see you. I notice you in the grocery store or at your granddaughter's game. I see you facing these days of burying friends at a more acceptable age and wondering who might be next. I am watching you for clues as to how to handle this same stage of life with dignity and grace. You have always been here to mentor me and I still need you.

Love,
Suzanne