This One’s For You

Dear Friends,

Today I remember my mother. She has been gone for twelve years today and it still feels like yesterday that I was sitting in my algebra class, and felt my heart sink at 2:42pm. I knew she was gone. I felt her leave the Earth – like so many loved ones report feeling. You know when loved ones are departing, or when they are in danger, or at worst, dead. I have devoted the past two years of my life to her – researching her, writing about her, working on our relationship, and hoping for those earth-shattering, seconds of coincidence where I feel the veil of her absence lifted. Since I’ve moved to New York, I’ve felt her in more ways than one. Most notably, I was walking home one night, wishing I could feel her, and saw something unbelievable to any reasonable human being: the words “Jessica heart Dianne” were written into the cement before it had hardened. It was then on that I came to believe that perhaps my mom resides on 16th Street when she left Irvine, my hometown. Perhaps she sent me that message a long time ago, and I just found it recently. Perhaps she always knew that I’d be here, working where I work, writing my book, dating who I date and being friends with some of the loveliest people I never thought I’d know. Friends that would love to join me in remembering her and support me in all my efforts to covet her wondrous effects. The short segues that pass between us do not go unnoticed, Mom. And they never will.

Unfortunately today marks the abhorrent milestone that is sad but true – she has been gone longer than we knew each other. Twelve years have gone by since we’ve embraced, talked, laughed or danced in the car together. Most people spend one day, or one week or one month honoring those who have gone too soon, but I chose to spend my professional career doing so. Not to prove anything to anyone, or to comfort myself, but more to carry on the belief that my mother was amazing and generations should go on to know about her and how she came of age – and how I created her memories. Who did my mother love, and where did all of her precious belongings go? It hurts sometimes to wonder as much as I do. It hurts to feel as lonely as I sometimes do. Without a mother, your 20’s are harder than they already are. There’s no one who’s come before you to tell you that everything is just as it should be and even if it is not, then maybe that’s OK too.

The first version of my book was written to my mother, for my mother. And I just realized that yesterday. This next version of my book is written for America, so that everyone else can get to know Dianne Barraco just as well as we knew her. Some of the words and structure might change, but it will have the same title and the same heartbeat. This one’s for you, Mom. It always is and always will be. Let us never forget.

If any of you reading this have a mother who’s living – give her a call, tell her you love her, like her even when she’s unlikable. We are all here because of our mothers and someday we’ll be mothers too. We miss you here on Earth, Mom. But I feel you everywhere – especially in New York City.

Kisses,

Jessica

In loving memory of Dianne Barraco

April 3, 1950-September 14, 1999

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