Expat Stories, غير مصنف

Recently an expat shared a heartfelt letter with me that she’d written to her late mother to help process her loss. Writing letters to loved ones who have passed away is a helpful tool for coping with grief. We hope her letter offers you some comfort too if you’re grieving the loss of a parent.

“Dear Mom

I stand here strong and proud with the thought that I came to life through you.

There are no words in any of the languages I speak to explain our beautiful relationship. Anything I try to say feels like less than what we (have) had.

I celebrate your strength, elegance and wisdom, and your ability to selflessly mother everyone, everywhere! My mother of mothers! 

I celebrate all the beautiful times we’ve experienced and the beautiful times I continue to have in my infinite imagination…

First you carried me for nine months and now I will carry you with me throughout my life. I hold our love, which is strong and light, pure and funny, and endless, for all the generations to come in our feminine family. Through my daughter and her future siblings and their possible children (and theirs and theirs…), they will all know you and feel you!

I’m so grateful to be part of your strong legacy. I honor all that you taught me and I continue to grow and learn.

I cherish the 33 years I spent with you.

I did not move on; I moved forward, with you, hand in hand!

I celebrate your life today. You may be gone but all that love remains. It warms and comforts and its foundation is as real as ever.

My beautiful mother, today and every single day from now on, your soul is free and happy!

Your ever-loving daughter”

We decide to share this expat’s story in acknowledgement of the terrible pain of loss. We want to honour all who are grieving a parent. Perhaps this letter will inspire you and give you strength to keep going.

Have you ever written a letter to someone who has passed? What other tools have you found healing? Do share with the Expat Nest community – your experience may touch the life of another.