No Te Preocupes

Dear Mimi,


Do I remember any specific lessons from any of my years of high school or college Spanish? I do not. I do, however, know the skit you co-wrote for your high school Spanish class. You told me about it, probably when I was working on something for one my my own assignments.


          You: Dios mio! Me olvido mis cuaderno!
                   (OMG! I forgot my notebook!)


          Your Friend: No te preocupes! Yo tengo papel!
                          (Don't worry! I have paper!)


These sentences became part of our vocabulary, always repeated with the same giggling theatrics that I imagine the piece was originally performed. The first line, delivered to the other, expressed, 'I don't have this thing that I need.' Or, 'I don't know how to do some thing.' Or, 'I forgot this thing that I need.' Or, 'I have failed at some thing.'


The other person delivered the second line after providing, or helping, or hugging, or teaching, or consoling, as needed.


And more frequently, the second line was said by itself. It always meant, 'I've got your back.'


         And, 'That doesn't matter, because I'm here.'


             And, 'I'm so glad I could help you.'


               And, 'That's what I'm here for.'


                 And, 'It's you and me, BFF.'


Love,


A

Twilight Zone

Dear Mimi, 


You're travelling through another dimension. 


A dimension not only of sight and sound, but of spirit.


You can paint with colors I have never seen, and sing in keys I am unable to hear.


My grandfathers and my dear friends and your dear friends and you, together in a wondrous land whose boundaries are outside even my imagination. 


The space you left behind looks the same and smells the same, but I don't recognize this world without you. 


The signpost should say 'Twilight Zone'.


Love, 


A

One Thumb Down

Dear Mimi, 


I know you rely on me for these sorts of things. So, before I forget to tell you, you should not watch The American. You will hate it. If you are looking for something good to watch, I have a few suggestions -- I still categorize every movie by whether or not you will like it. 


Love, 

A

It Does a Body Good

Dear Mimi, 


During my formative years, I consumed gallons of milk. Gallons and gallons and gallons and gallons. And gallons. I'm not sure how many glasses of milk I drank each day, but I do know that you got a sip of each one. 


I don't remember if I ever argued, or asked for an explanation. I do remember that you said, each time, 'Mom gets a sip of your milk.' It was a fact, it was simply so. 


If I ever wondered why you didn't get your own glass of milk - I now know the answer. Or, I don't. But I do take a sip out of every glass I pour for my growing child. And I say, each time, 'Mom gets a sip of your milk.' 


Love, 


A

Perfect Moments

Dear Mimi,


We shared a perfect moment once. I was in labor, and you were by my side -- with my Amazing Husband and the Little One. In the moment, you had an overwhelming feeling that it was *perfect*. Afterwards you wondered what had made this moment so perfect.


I think it was perfect because all the things that define 'us' and our relationships were stripped away. We were four people joined together, completely free of pretense and baggage and dynamics. The room was chaotic, but I was only aware of the Little One urging me on. Amazing Husband's gentle assurances. And your voice in my ear, your constant stream of prayer. Everything outside the circle of us ceased. Our togetherness was a bright and sparkling thing, overpowering the idea of the room and the hospital and the world. My spirit and your spirit and her spirit and his spirit singing a song unknown and unheard outside our hearts.


I imagine it was a bit like where you are now.


Love,


A

One Of Us

Dear Mimi,


When we needed milk, or a ride for The Little One, or something taken somewhere...we would say, 'One of us should go...' We said it so frequently, it turned into a name, 'One-of-us should go.' I was the de facto One-of-us until the Little One was driving. And I still stand up automatically if someone mentions a task for One-of-us.


All I know is that All Of Us would really like you here with us today.


Love,


A

All Day Long I'd Biddy Biddy Bum

Dear Mimi,


I'm watching Glee right now, and this morning I was listening to the original Hair soundtrack in the car. Yesterday I spent my lunch break watching YouTube clips of 'If I Were a Rich Man', 'Coffee Break', 'Marion the Librarian'. You and I made a list, in purple Sharpie, of musicals we wanted to re-watch together. The list is still on the fridge, but we only got around to watching and marking off one. I'm sure we watched hours and hours of television together after making the list -- I'm not sure why we didn't watch more musicals. We totally should have watched more musicals.


Love, 


A

Every Beautiful Thing

Dear Mimi,


You once gave me a pretty to hang on my wall. On it were the words, 'Distance does not matter. I'll find you whenever the earth dances beneath my feet and the wind sweeps beauty across my soul.' When I didn't hang it immediately, you were upset with me. You said, 'A, this is serious. I mean this, and I want you to always know it. When I'm not here for whatever reason, you need to remember that distance does not matter. I'll be there in every beautiful thing. I'll be the wind sweeping over you.'


I'm sorry I didn't hang it sooner -- I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. And, I do feel you in every beautiful thing. I always have. 


Love, 


A

Perceptual Vigilance, Baader-Meinhof, Synchronicity

Dear Mimi,


When you were first diagnosed, it seemed that every new movie was about someone struggling with or dying from cancer. Do you remember how annoyed we all were? We couldn't escape, even to the movies! I was thinking about that the other day, and the 'once you learn something, you see it everywhere' thing -- so I looked it up. I found this article, which is as damn intereting as the website asserts:  http://www.damninteresting.com/the-baader-meinhof-phenomenon.


This is just the sort of thing about which we would have had a cracking good conversation.


Love, 


A

I Took Them to My Office Instead

Dear Mimi, 


The big white irises in my yard have bloomed for the first time this Spring. Usually I clip a large bunch of them and bring them to you, to put by your bed. I gathered a bunch yesterday morning. Not out of habit, but because I wish I could bring them to you again. 


Love, 


A

You Still Didn't Smell Like Toothpaste

Dear Mimi, 


I just put on one of your tie-dyed shirts, and it does not smell like toothpaste. It smells like you, and dad, and our house, and palm trees, and teal house paint, and hot tea (decaf), and lazy Saturdays by the pool, and ranch beans, and giggling fits, and the Big Chill soundtrack. But mostly you. 


Love, 


A

You Didn't Smell Like Toothpaste...

Dear Mimi,


The Little One and I went through your clothes last night, and I couldn't stop myself from burying my face in one of your shirts, hoping to smell you. The shirt smelled mostly like toothpaste, and not very much like you. The act itself was an impulse, and as soon as I did it I wished that I hadn't. I looked up, and the Little One was looking at me with this look on her face, a look that said, 'Yeah, I know'. To be honest, I felt a little guilty - like she caught me doing something terrible. I struggle with finding the balance between what Aunt Ginny called my 'composure', and letting the Little One know I'm feeling the same things, and the feelings are okay. They are hard, and sometimes they are really fucking hard. Most of the time, I'm okay. I guess I don't know how else to let her know that we are going to be okay other than to show her that I am.


But that's only true 'most' of the time.


Love,


A

The International Sign of Mel

Dear Mimi,


You painted swirls everywhere, so we painted swirls on ourselves.


Happy Mother's Day,


A

They Were Afraid She Would Knit an Afhgan

Dear Mimi,


Yasser was here. He came to Casa M-D and we put on some music, opened a bottle of Rioja.


We talked about the time he showed up, married. I met him, hugged him, and asked him how he was. He shook his head and said, 'No. Please take me to Melanie.' I delivered Yasser to your bedside - you were in the middle of some round of chemo. And, in his Yasser way, he said he wanted you to be the first to know and he held up his left hand. I know how you treasured that moment, and how honored you were. I'm sure he also knew, but we made sure to tell him anyway.


And of course, we talked about your favorite joke. 'Why did airport security take knitting needles away from the little old lady?'...


Love,


A