Dear CeeCee,

I hope you can read my handwriting. I’m having trouble holding the pen now, and I can’t sit up in bed very well today.

It’s so strange to write letters for you to open when you will be so much older than I will ever be. What advice can I possibly give someone with so much more life experience than I have? Maybe I’ll just tell you that I will miss not getting to know you as an adult. I’ll miss not getting to watch you grow up and to keep you out of trouble as you pass through your inevitable rebellious stage, to listen to you as you become more introspective and thoughtful, to help you pick out your wedding gown, to hold your babies in my arms, and to be there for you at those moments when life hurts. Just know, darling girl, that if I could, I would call you every day of your life just to say “I love you,” with nothing else attached to those words. No criticism. No advice. No requests. Just to say I love you.

I think this is the last letter I’ll be able to write to you. Maybe I’m wrong, but today is so hard. I can barely breathe, and I think I’m just tired of living. I feel my mind moving from this world to the next. It’s not a bad feeling.

Let these letters be my legacy to you, CeeCee. I have no money to leave you, just all the loving thoughts in the world. And I know the legacy you leave your children will be ten times richer.

I love you with all my heart,
Mom