... Mom's Letter ... ... Recommend this page to a friend.
Dear Darling Son and That Person You Married
Please don't worry. I'm just fine considering I can't breathe or eat. You shouldn't know what I'm going through; day, night, what can I tell you. The important thing is that you have a nice holiday, thousands of miles away from your ailing mother.
I've sent along my last ten dollars with this letter, which I hope you'll spend on my grandchildren. G-d knows their mother never buys them anything nice. They look so thin in their pictures, poor babies. Does she feed them? I'm sorry I mentioned it.
Thank you so much for the flowers, dear boy. I put them in the freezer so they'll stay fresh for my grave. Which reminds me, we buried Grandma last week. I know she died years ago, but I got to yearning for a good funeral so Aunt Johanna and I dug her up and had the services all over again. I would have invited you, but I know that woman you live with would have never let you come - I'd even bet she's never even watched that videotape of my hemorrhoid surgery. Has she? See, I told you.
Well son, it's time for me to crawl off to bed now ... I lost my cane beating off muggers last week, but don't you worry about me. I'm also getting used to the cold since they turned my heat off and am grateful because the frost on my bed numbs the constant pain. Son, you shouldn't know from it, so my mouth is sealed, shhh, I can't say anything. You live life the best you can ... you know.
Shopping, by the way, is all right, when I'm able to walk. I clip coupons, look for sales, and guess what, I found a delicious brand of tuna fish, Purina or something like that. Other than my varicose veins, I don't have much to say, my dear son, a blessing on your head. Now don't you even think about sending any more money, because I know you need it for those expensive family vacations you take every year. I'm learning to do without, I don't need so much, so don't you worry your head about me. Believe me, I'm all right.
Oh, before I forget; last week I slipped in the bathtub and hit my head on the sink. It was a little emergency, but I'm all right now. How's that new bathroom you're making? Is it nice? I'm happy for you, and for what's-her-name ... So now you're 1,000 miles away from me ... (go have children, if I only knew) ... but I understand, you have to go where your work is ... and I'm looking up to heaven now hoping soon.
Give my love to my darling grandchildren and my regards to whatever-her-name-is, the one with the black roots who stole you screaming from my bosom.
Love, Mom