Hello from the Other Side..

Hello from the Other Side,

It’s your mother. Yes, I finally get a turn. I had to wrestle this letter out of your father’s hands, he’s been hogging the afterlife stationery like it’s toilet paper in a snowstorm. He and a few of the boys have reorganized poker night for the third time this week. Between you and me, Elvis is still a cheat, Sinatra’s a sore loser and I caught your grandfather trying to sneak an extra Ace up his sleeve. Nothing changes.

But enough about them. Let’s talk about you.

I’ve been watching. Oh yes, we get the full show up here. Every awkward conversation, every family text thread, every passive-aggressive casserole drop-off. It’s better than any soap opera I ever watched. And let me tell you, sweetheart, you’re handling this circus with more grace and guts than anyone down there’s giving you credit for.

Now let’s address the elephants in the room, shall we? That Fanny McFox? Oh please. That girl’s been scheming since she was old enough to swipe cookies off the counter and blame the dog. Always cared more about how things looked than how they were. She could be standing in a burning building and still stop to adjust her lipstick before calling for help. You give someone a little social polish, a curated Facebook page and a few church bake sales under their belt and suddenly they think they’re the patron saint of morality. Newsflash, darling – Heaven called, and they’re not impressed.

And Bully? Don’t get me started on him. Still up on that high horse. That boy’s been avoiding accountability since he was twelve and swore up and down he didn’t break my good vase, which he did, by the way. Found the shards hidden behind the couch when we moved. He thinks ducking hard conversations is some kind of power move. Let him. The truth has a funny way of waiting people out.

But here’s what I really came to say, and you better listen, because I don’t repeat myself – at least not without charging a lecture fee.

You’re doing better than you think.

I know it feels like you’re carrying a thousand pounds of other people’s silence, unfinished business and conveniently rewritten family history. You’ve been handed the invisible job of peacekeeper, truth-teller and memory holder. It isn’t fair. It isn’t easy. And I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But sweetheart – if anyone can do it, it’s you.

Because you’re the one who still shows up when it’s uncomfortable. The one who says the thing no one else will say. The one who carries the weight of all the unspoken nonsense others don’t have the guts to face. And you’re the one who remembers that what matters isn’t what people pretend in public, it’s what they do in private when no one’s watching.

So keep speaking up. Keep saying the hard stuff. Keep holding your head up when they try to duck their responsibilities. And when you get tired, because you will – sit down, pour yourself a drink, eat something indulgent and remember this:

You come from tough stock. I survived two in-laws from hell, a PTA mutiny, childbirth without an epidural and once gave a speech at your uncle’s wedding after his new wife’s drunk cousin fell into the cake. I didn’t crumble, and you won’t either.

And remember, they can dodge, they can ghost and they can polish their fake halos all they want. The truth stays the truth. And up here? We see everything.

Alright – I have to go. Bridge club’s about to start and rumor has it Saint Peter’s been hiding wild cards up his sleeve. I intend to catch him.

I love you. Always have. Always will.
Mother