Dear Mom,
It’s been almost a year. The sky’s still blue, and what goes up still goes down. Pretty much everything else has changed. Donald Trump is president, and you probably know how I feel about that so let’s pretend that didn’t happen… Bill Cosby was charged and eventually acquitted of some pretty heinous stuff. I’ve been reading a lot. I recently picked up Pat Conroy’s posthumous book A Low Country Heart. It’s all excerpts from letters and blogs that he wrote in his late years. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it. In my simple life, my family is good and happy. Everyones growing on schedule, and healthy which is what matters. Aubrey is a rising fifth grader, yeah I know… She loves to read, like you. She’s been named “Busy Bee” reader two years straight! She’s also really coming out of her shell. Remember how she would be too shy to order her food in a restaurant? Now she walks right up and asks. She loves spending time with friends, and playing outside. Her neighbor friend and her created an “Animal Club” where they organized an agenda, lessons, and snacks for a few months. This is all borne out of her creativity and love for nature, and science. She’s traveling to spend a week in North Carolina with her cousins and Jenn’s family. Liam has gone through quite the transformation. He is a better listener, and has learned to handle frustration in a more respectful way. His lack of focus is still there but just maybe he might be good-to-go without the help of medication. This will be a big step forward for him, and we are proud of his maturation. I still don’t know where he inherited his lack of focus… What’s really cool is his teacher this past year, Mrs. Shelton, really connected with him. She was in her last year of teaching and my initial thoughts were that her patience had probably worn out years ago. She proved me wrong, and turned out to be one of those teachers that Liam will remember for a lifetime. There’s a great video we have of him hugging her during her presentation for the end of the year, and her tearing up. I can guarantee you would have as well. Dylan is a remarkable little kid. He’s still small in stature but makes up for it in personality and courage. He’s also passionate about animals and asks anyone that is in earshot “what’s your favorite animal you like?” He stays in the hip-pocket of Liam and Aubrey and wants all the same privileges bestowed upon them and their advanced age. And of all of them, and it’s been competitive, he’s the most daddy-crazy. He wakes up with me, collects all of his toys and joins me in the shower, and asks questions that I’m not ready to answer first thing in the morning. Then he joins me downstairs for breakfast, or whatever I have time for before I leave for the day. It’s both an obstacle to getting up and moving, and a blessing in that I will remember those moments for the rest of my time. Then there's JoElle. Well, she’s perfect. I can’t really say much more than that. You know me, I’m not the most infant-friendly of adults. I’m always too worried about each cough or how warm she feels. She just looks at me and stares. I can’t figure out if she’s looking at me or in my direction… She’s quiet for the most part and just likes to take in the moment and hear the voices around her—usually the kids arguing about whose turn it is or giggling as they play some type of game that borders on the edge of torture and hilarity. We are quite the family. I never saw myself with four kids but now it just feels like this was the plan all along.
Even after fifteen years of marriage, Jenn and I are happy. It’s pretty amazing given the naysayers and differences in backgrounds. I’ve found the key ingredient is respect and care for each other’s passions, concerns, and lastly an enduring love. What’s funny about love is that you don’t even know the depth or complexity of your feelings when you’re in the fray, only when you have had time to live it and feel it. For the ups and downs, and those moments of truth that all relationships cross at some fateful point —it’s there to catch you. I know I didn’t know that fifteen years ago, and I’m still in awe of the connection that we have formed through experiences, four children, multiple moves, and like I said before—the vicissitudes of this life. She’s a wonderful mother. She adored you—as a mother, and as a grandmother to our children. One of my regrets is that she did’t get a chance to tell you one more time. Just know that she loves you, and misses you everyday.
So here I am, thirty-nine years young and starting to feel more and more like an adult. It takes some years to pass by to know that this life is not a guarantee, and we need to take each moment in—and try our damnedest to live it fully. I’ve lost thirty-five pounds since March through a more disciplined diet and moderate exercise. I know you know that dieting isn’t fun so you can be empathetic of my journey. What I can tell you is that it hasn’t been that hard given the alternative. It starts with awareness. Then I’ve used that motivate my actions every morning of everyday. Seeing you go through what you went through, and knowing that life can be cruel and swift in its decisiveness, has been an impetus for both Mary and me to take a more healthy approach. I don’t want to give into any sense of helplessness and take the reigns of what I can influence in my life. This is just a first step, so I can’t rest on my laurels.
I have sat down and decided to write something in earnest. I’ve just crossed the twenty-thousand word threshold. This is a big moment for me given that I have about twenty five beginnings of something, but that’s it. I'm excited about where it’s going and wish you could be the first person to read it when I finish. It’s about relationships, love, and what happens when people mess it all up due to some self fulfilling prophecy. I’ve really enjoyed writing dialog and recreating these relationships that are both imaginary and somewhat drawn from real life. You’ve provide me a rich life. One that has challenge me to put myself out there, to be confident, and to be loyal and committed in everything I’ve done. I appreciate that. I’m so mad that you won’t be able to read it. I know that you would be honest and supportive. I harbor no ambitions of becoming famous, or even having it published. Even though self-publishing is a very real thing these days. It's for me. I set a goal to write a novel before I turned thirty. So here I am almost a decade late.
I miss you. I know that no matter what happened to you after you left this life, wherever you are, I know that you are making the best of it. You always have, through thick and thin. I always admired your simplicity of needs, yet passion for experiences. Not in the daredevil, adrenaline type of experience but in the vast possibility of human kindness. Whether it was traveling with the church, or helping a neighbor who needed help. I know that wherever the good people go, you are there telling them about the potential of others to do good. You loved to travel and see the world. You enjoyed visiting locations that were both awe inspiring in beauty and adorned in cultural relevance which is something that you have inspired in both Mary and me. We’ve grown significantly closer since you left. You used to always say that you wished we would treat each other more nicely and enjoy each other’s company. You succeeded in that vision even if it took years for us to appreciate each other’s company like we do today.
We have the Ryan family reunion here in about two weeks. This time last year none of us truly knew what the future would look like for you. I know that I tried to deny that it was something serious and you allowed me to do this. Just like always, you were looking out for everyone else. Not a selfish bone in your body. If I could go back in time, I would have spent more time with you. I would have visited you more often, and I would’ve called you at least once a day. The Ryan’s will be back together in a couple of weeks. I know that we will have fun, and laugh, drink, and get sunburnt (well at least the northerners). I also know that every day I will take at least one moment and think about you. You will be with us.
Thirty-nine years… It took the death of my mom for me to grow up. I always was a momma’s boy, even though I wouldn’t admit it.
Eternal Love and Gratitude,
Ryan
