How do I begin this post except with barely contained tears?
Most days I am ok. Lately it's been more difficult.
There are few people in my life who I have loved as deeply as my Becky.
We never called her Mom. We tried, once, just after they got married. But it didn't fit right. We had always called her Becky. She would always be Becky. OUR Becky.
I know she loves us like her own. And we love her the same. She is ours. And always will be.
I never knew then how much she made sure we had a relationship with our father who, I don't think, ever really knew what to do with two daughters. She did. We played with shrinky dinks. Lee Press on Nails. She washed our hair in the sink. She let us try on her rabbit fur coat.
They were a pair. But everything wasn't as perfect as I thought. I learned that as I got older. And even when their marriage ended, I knew it had nothing to do with us. I know she will always love us.
But she has stayed away. I think it's hard for her. I was looking forward to seeing her at my Seester's wedding, but she was a no show.
I later learned that her boyfriend asked that she not have anything to do with anything related to my father. Daddy, can be poisonous. Although I understand, it still hurts. But I respect it. I make no attempts at contact. I know I could track her down if I tried.
That doesn't mean that I don't still love her. That I wouldn't welcome her back into my life with happy tears and open arms. And right now, I could certainly use her wisdom.
In so many ways, I am walking in her shoes. In more ways I am glad I am not. There are so many questions I would like to ask her but I can't. It's been hard, lately, more so than before, to be without her. I hope she knows that I think of her every day. And that I am greatful for her example. I couldn't have asked for a better teacher.