We Empower Magazine Presents… Dear Mom Series (Mother’s We’ve Lost) With Tara Slater

Tara Slater works at Syracuse University and First Baptist Church in Syracuse, NY. Tara traveled the world in her 20s working on cruise ships then spent a decade in the Keys before returning to her hometown to be closer to family. She writes at night and is trying to learn to roller skate again during the day.

We Empower Magazine Presents… Dear Mom Series (Mother’s We’ve Lost) With Tara Slater. Dedicated to her beloved mother Tess Slater (10/30/55 – 11/12/21). Tara lost her mother suddenly last November so she has been sharing her stories about grief in hopes to help others and to spread the light her mom gave her. #beliketess

Dear Mom,

It’s the first Mother’s Day without you. I should be shopping by now — no polka dot turtleneck was safe- I’d be scooping them all up in your size at all the stores. No flowers though — you hated flowers “If someone buys me flowers — they don’t know me. Bring me tootsie rolls.” So, we did.

Crazy to think your girl JoAnn (Fabrics) won’t get a dime this May from me. I’m still in shock that my worst nightmare came true last fall. We lost you. My mind has been fuzzy since, and it still doesn’t make sense. And then when I realize we won’t talk on the phone tonight like we did every night, the shock comes back. My throat closes, my heart hurts, and my stomach drops. Again and over and over. I’m so glad I hugged you twice the last time I saw you.

Forty-four years of being my best friend and biggest fan and now, I’ve been left here on the sidelines. Where did you go? The calendar in your sewing room still shows November; a sewing project with a Christmas theme, sits untouched on your ironing board. I can’t figure out who that was for — you always gave away everything you made. You created art from your heart. Every home you owned had a sewing room. And a candy drawer.

While some people jog, drink, or gamble to ease their stresses- you gave. You could line up the Northeast with all the fleece! Blankets of every color, pattern, and size; you’ve sewn then given away every shade and size the past two decades. So many people tell me how they cuddle their blankets made from you on their hard days now. You did that. You prepared us, didn’t you? You gave us comfort. A warm cuddle on a hard day — even though you’re not here, we feel it.

Your voice is still on the outgoing message at home. I call it often when I know dad will be out, but hang up before the beep. It’s like a secret hug that only I can hear:

“Hi! You’ve reached the Slaters!”

You sound like you always did — happy.

Excited to hear from us.

Bursting with love.

I should be sobbing on the ground, but weirdly enough, I’m here. I’m getting up — even growing. You prepared me for this my whole life, didn’t you? You made me strong, like you. You taught us to “never be sad for more than 24 hours — for any reason.” You never had a bad day. Even after your mom died, you were up a day later, bringing joy to others as you do.

“Hi! You’ve reached the Slaters!”

You made everyone your friend. You taught me early to never leave anyone out — sit with the new kid at lunch and we invited every girl in my class to every birthday party we had. No one felt lonely with you near — we only felt loved.

You taught me to be tough. ‘Never hit anyone first’, you’d say, “but if someone hits you= YOU HIT BACK”.

And to never fear change. Don’t like your job? Change it. Hate your home? Move. You weren’t down with complaints but always championed change. Thank you for that.

Also, the word you hated most: ‘Bored’. So we never were. Our childhood was packed with picnics and parks and forts and camps and beaches and lakes, oh my. You said ‘only boring people get bored’. Lord, did we never.

“Hi! You’ve reached the Slaters!”

Every day was fun. Did you know I laugh like you do? Maybe I never noticed cause we were always laughing together… When it comes out of me, it shocks me. The first few ones came out light a chuckle then sob, but then I noticed, it was like you were there. Howling with me, as per usual.. Even though you’re not here, I’m going to keep laughing. A lot. For us. For them, who need to hear it too.

You loved to sew, you loved to bake, and you loved to make people feel good. No matter where we went, when we would park in a parking garage, you’d give the attendant a candy bar. When the dude took off our snow tires each year, you gave him some chocolate along with his tip. You just stood out. You were special. When we went to the beach, you’d pay the entry fee and give them a bag of chips and a juice. I could tell you were special and that not a lot of people were like you just by their reactions. You’d both be smiling as we drove away. Always. You knew what to do. Make people happy. And that you did. Your actions, your words, your voice. It just did. You still do.

“Hi! You’ve reached the Slaters!”

So now what? Well, I could cry — or I could get creative. That’s what you would do. You never stopped making and baking and loving. So that’s what we’re gonna do. For you. I can’t buy you a new turtleneck this Mother’s Day, but I can try to make you smile from here. And try to make you proud, reminding you by showing you how strong you made us.

And on the hard days, I can’t get mad at God for taking you, cause he’s the one who gave me you. It’s confusing but I just do what you’d do: Look for the good. Keep laughing. Keep creating. And even on the hard days, we answer with enthusiasm and a smile. Weren’t some days hard, mom? Is it true? How did you always keep it moving, 365 days a year, always smiling and filling our days with warm meals, tight hugs when needed and lots of laughter and love? Every call, every hug. You always gave it your all.

“Hi! You’ve reached the Slaters!”

Cause that was you. If there were hard days — we never knew.

Thank you for all of the fun times. We were never, ever bored. We know you loved us so much and for that, we’re the lucky ones. Keep ’em laughing up there, mama. We know you do.

“Hi! You’ve reached the Slaters!”

Thanks for making us, loving us, and preparing us. We may not be able to see you, but we still hear you. Loud and clear.

I miss you mom.

We send you so much love, zero flowers, and a bushel of candy from here.

XO

#beliketess

Follow Tara Slater, her stories, and spins on her blog at www.taradelightwrites.com or on social on Instagram @taradelight.