Seven Years On
Dear Mom,
It’s now been seven years. Each August 2nd I find myself here again, writing to you—remembering, updating, and trying to capture how much I miss you. Some years feel harder than others, but the ache of missing you has never really gone away. I still catch myself wanting to tell you something, to ask your advice, or to just hear your voice.
One of the biggest things this year: we bought a house in New Orleans. I can’t think of a better place to begin this next chapter. I remember how much you loved it when you visited—the music, the food, the feel of the city—and I know you’d be thrilled for us. It’s exciting and a little overwhelming, but it feels right. There’s something about New Orleans that reminds me of you: vibrant, soulful, full of stories.
We crossed the Atlantic twice this year—once on the Queen Mary 2. On one of your trips here, you visited the Queen Mary which is located in Long Beach, California. While we were onboard, Chris found an amazing piece of information which I will be forever thankful for. He found out that one of the whistles (horns) on the QM2 actually came from the Queen Mary. As he mentioned, when we hear that horn, we were hearing the same horn that your dad heard when he was on his journey to Singapore. Whilst a little surreal, it made me think of your father and the journey he would’ve made all those decades ago. For a brief moment, I felt deeply connected to that part of our family’s history—like I could hear the past calling forward.
We also spent time in Europe with Michele and his family. We started in Rome with the family, left them while we ventured through France, and then ended up in Hameln (in Germany) to spend some days together before we headed back to the US on the QM2. It was full of the kind of moments you would’ve appreciated: shared meals, laughter in the kitchen, quiet time walking through neighborhoods. I felt grounded there, and at home in a different way.
Preparing for our move to New Orleans has meant sorting through years of things here in Frisco. It’s been a process—both physically and emotionally. So many memories surface when you least expect them. I am finally going through all the items I brought home with me after you passed away. Incredible to be finally living through this part of our collective history. I am also discovering notes and pictures that I have never seen, which I hope to add to our genealogy files in the future.
Oh, Chris had his hip replaced last September, and he did incredibly well in his recovery. I mean, you would’ve been impressed with how quickly he recovered—and no doubt you’d have had strong opinions about how he should take care of himself. He’s taken it all in stride.
Fay passed away earlier this year. I thought you’d want to know.
So that’s been this past year. I’m still here, still navigating it all, still missing you. Some things change, others stay constant. Your memory, your love, the way you shaped who I am—those are with me every single day.
I love you, Mom. I miss you. Always.
With love,
James
