To you, Nutty Nettie

To you Nut Nut,

The day I met you was nothing I imagined. You and dad were sitting out back with the white fold out table, smoking and listening to the radio. Your son introduced me to you and as coolly as you could, you quickly put your cigarette out and got up to give me a hug. "Oh you're so gorgeous!" You said to me. You've always been the life of the party. A woman who loves out loud and as silly as possible. To be honest, you've always been a little nutty.

I never expected to gain a mother-in-law but I did and you have truly lived up to your "Nutty Nettie" nickname. Never have I ever seen a woman eat through bags and bags of Cheeto puffs. Never have I seen a woman have some many fuzzy socks nor a woman who has so many pink and sparkly things. Thinking about it, we may just put your ashes in a glitter ball after all, just like you asked. Though your oldest children won't admit it, you are the light of the family. I truly see it.

Years later, you are still as warm in your embrace as you are loving for your children, birth and in-laws. I'm not sure for how long you will be in this darkness though. I know that a piece of you died that day when your baby boy decided to leave Earth in search of his next destination. I know that a piece of you dies every day he does not come home. I know a piece of you dies when you call out for him and he doesn't answer back.

I can still remember the days after. The house covered with condolences, ugly and stark flower arrangements. Everyone was quiet, stone, and unmoving. You were different. Your wailing, a sound one cannot really describe in words. You unleashed your pain into the world and I will never forget that sound. Though your baby was 20 years old, he was still the baby you held in your arms and it hurt you so bad. Almost two and half years later and you're still drowning in your grief. Despite our best efforts we cannot really reach you. You hear us but you're not really listening. The pain is too much sometimes. I cannot imagine, none of us can, what it feels like to lose a child. You have us here of course, but we know it's not the same. Sometimes, we just wish we were "enough".

I remember that drive as we were evacuating to Virginia because of the hurricane. You decided to stay behind to continue working at the nursing home. He thought you were so brave. I remember him looking out at the fields as we drove pass and choked up saying, "you know mom is a hero." He was scared of course but in that moment he realized just how resilient and brave you are. And you still are. Deep down, a part of you is holding on for us; for your two children still here, for your in-law daughter and son, and for your grandchildren. It's the toughest thing you have ever had to do but you're doing it. One foot in front of the other, one day at a time. That's all we really need from you.

As you spend your days searching for your faith, your happiness, your purpose in the years you have left before you see your baby boy again, just know this...

You are the bravest and brightest light so long as you continue to live.