To the girl I was seven years ago:
Hey! It’s me! Actually, technically, it’s you, because you are me. But that’s just simply a technicality, because we are not actually the same person at all.
Yes, we may look very similar. Our voices may sound the same, we may still have the same laugh, and we may have a TON of the same clothes because, well, we can’t get rid of anything.
But inside, we are very, very different. We are separated by seven years worth of experiences and heartaches, laughter and tears. Because you, Me Seven Years Ago,(this is getting really confusing, so we’re going to start calling you/me MSYA.) are naive, and you think your problems at work with employees or your frustrations with your peers or your bosses are bad. You’re not exactly sure how you feel about that boy you’ve been talking to or if that kiss in the classy Orena parking lot meant something (let me just reiterate...very, very different.) But you really don’t know what a bad day looks like, because you had it so easy.
You didn’t have to watch your mom turn into a confused version of the free-spirited woman you know her to be; you didn’t have to watch her lose her hair, or so much of her memory that she didn’t even know it was her own birthday (her last birthday) as people were gathered around her singing. You didn’t have to watch your dad and your brother lifting her up on the count of 3 because she lost the use of her arms and legs over the course of a week, and you didn’t have to hear that horrible f***ing coughing sound from the thickit we had to put into all of her drinks so we could spoon feed them to her during those last weeks. You didn’t have to watch your “little” brother (her baby boy) look up at you with tears in his eyes and say “no matter how many times I tell her I love her, it’ll never be enough.” Or watch him struggle to get through one last reading of their book, “I’ll Love You Forever”, and you didn’t have to watch her take her last breath a few hours later.
But you also didn’t get that hug from your dad a few minutes after she died, the one where he pulled you in and told you “I always loved your mother.” As if you would have had any doubt, because while you may have only known about all the times she stepped up to take care of him, you’ll never know the way he stepped up to take care of her, long after their marriage had ended.
You didn’t get to sit in the same room with all of your cousins for the first time in ten years as they helped you write your speech for her memorial. You didn’t get to know what it felt like to have people show up for you when you didn’t even know what you needed at any given moment. You didn’t get to hear all the stories people remembered about her, or watch proudly as your little brother read their book to all the people who were sitting in a giant banquet room at the North Park Ice Skating Rink to celebrate her (yes, you read that right—you knew her, and you knew how much she loved it there...I’m sure you can’t imagine a more perfect send off either.)
You probably remember, MSYA (stupid name, by the way), how scared you always were to lose both of your parents; how you genuinely wished the world would just end in December of 2012 so you didn’t have to live without them. It was always your fear. Maybe you had a feeling they weren’t ever meant to stay here with you for very long, and maybe that feeling was closing in on you. Whatever it was, the irony is, the world DID end for you that year (and not just because you are Me Seven Years Ago, and not Me Six Years Ago, or Me Five Years Ago...)
But I’m here to tell you that somehow, the world started over again, and that I’m okay. I’m different now, and in the time that separates us from one another, I fell in and out of love (with WOMEN! Bet you never saw that coming...), and I lost my dad, too. Can you believe it? Your worst nightmare came true. I lost him suddenly, almost without warning, but I got to be there with him. And that fear you had of being there and watching someone die? It was unfounded. Because believe me, watching each of our parents take their last breath were two of the most peaceful and significant moments I’ve ever witnessed, and I never would have wanted to miss them.
I’ve conquered a lot of your fears. I’ve done things you never thought were possible, and I’ve met people along the way that you didn’t even know you needed. And with all due respect, I’m stronger than you ever were or ever thought you could be. I had no say in the matter, and I suspect most of that strength came from the two people who love us both the most.
I hope you know how lucky you are, and I wish time could stand still for you and that you could just take it all in, because in a few short days, it’s all going to come crashing down.
Oh, and one more thing...I have a REALLY handsome dog, and you would totally make fun of my complete and total obsession with him.
All my love,
Present Day Noelle
