The Promise

November 19, 2011

Dear Grace and Johnny,

I know you both think I talk way too much, so I'm writing you a letter, the kind I used to write to you on a somewhat annual basis, until my life became unmanageable. I've missed writing, and I'm going to do it more regularly. I've found that I'm usually best at expressing my thoughts and feelings through the written word.

For you, Grace, your feelings may come out through singing, dancing, watching Justin Bieber videos 10, 15, 100x a week, asking lots of questions, drawing pictures, and being the silly Grace that you are.

For you, Johnny, you may express your feelings through playing with your friends, skateboarding, playing the drums, drawing, reading.

You both may do all of these things or none of these things, in the days, weeks, months, and years to come. And that's ok. There's no 'right' or 'wrong' way to feel. You're going to see me cry. You've already seen me cry. You may cry. And that's ok. If the crying makes us uncomfortable, we can say, "Have another glass of milk."

We're still going to laugh--a lot. We already have been. We always have, and we always will. We're going to sing and dance and act very, very silly. We're going to have 'home jokes' that are supposed to stay at home, within our family. But, I know some of these jokes and wild adventures we've had together are going to be shared with others. Like, at your school, with your friends and teachers. I know this because you're kids and kids tend to do that kind of stuff. And you already have. It's ok.

We're still going to have family dinners where we go around the table and either play "What was your favorite day?", "Would you rather...", and "Who would you rather dance with?"

We'll still have sleep overs, and I'll take you to Dollar General where you'll each get to pick out your favorite candy.

We'll still have, or should I say, start back up, Saturday morning clothes sort parties, and every little once in awhile, I'll buy you, Johnny, a new pair of shoes, and take you, Grace, to the nearest DQ, for a dipped cone.

I know you miss Daddy. I miss Daddy too. I miss him so very much. But he is still with us in so many ways. I think of Daddy when the owl tells the main character in the story I read to you last night, There's No Such Place as Far Away, "If you want to be with Rae, aren't you already there?" If you want to be with Daddy, aren't you already there?

Daddy died because he was sick. He died because alcoholism is an illness--a family illness. We did not cause it, we couldn't cure it, and we couldn't control it. We can move forward now--with hope. With the hope and help of Al-Anon and Al-Ateen. And with the help and love from all of our family and friends. And most of all, with the promise that God made to me 21 years ago. I was sitting on my bed in my room in Boone. I was 18 years old. I'd always believed in God, but on that day, God sent me a message--a promise. The promise was, and is, quite simple: You are going to be ok. At that time I didn't have any reason to believe that I wouldn't be ok. I understand that promise much better now. God made a promise kind of like I do to you both. And when you're not quite sure if I'm going to keep my promise you often ask me to 'pinky swear,' and I do.

Daddy was on a journey, and I believe he's finally found his way home. His forever home. We are also on a journey--of living, loving, laughing, and growing into the people that God wants us to be.

I am so super-proud of both of you. And I love you so very much--just for being you. I will always love you. And you both will be ok too. I promise.

Love,

Mommy