Dear Mom-mom

Dear Mom-mom,

I miss you. I could write a whole letter on the ways I miss you, but I’m resting in the knowledge that I’ll see you again one day. So for now, I’ll reminisce about all the ways you and Pop-pop impacted my life, teaching me invaluable lessons and leaving me with the most amazing legacy.

You and Pop-pop taught me to love love stories. Your love story with Pop-pop will forever be my favorite, to heck with Hallmark.

I can still hear the dramatic way he would tell it- his loving you at first sight in the 7th grade and giving you a pocketbook for your birthday that year. Then in high school seeing you on a date with another boy at the restaurant where he worked. But instead of hiding from you, he made sure he was your waiter. He watched from the sidelines as you almost married another man, then watched you grieve that man’s death at war, all the while still loving you. The way he came back into your life as a friend, knowing that’s all you had space for in your heart. But his patience paid off as he realized you were falling for him too. The way he described your first date when you asked him if he was going to kiss you and he said, “If you were any other girl than Ruth Tull I would,” because he respected you so highly and knew you were his endgame.

My Pop-pop reading the first “book” I wrote about their love story, “First Girl, Last Girl.”

You made me want to wait for my own true love story. Although mine doesn’t have quite the epic Hallmark feel, it’s mine all the same, and I know you very much loved the man I chose.

You taught me to work hard. Whether it be something small like how you learned to write with your right hand because when you were growing up, being left-handed wasn’t allowed. Or the days you worked for the telephone company, wearing those big ole headphones, which you hated because they would mess up your hair. And we all know how hard it must’ve been to work under hair-flattening conditions for you. Or the pride you had in Pop-pop driving the Kunkle oil truck, even though it meant long days without him. But it was worth it because you saved and saved and saved, and eventually you were able to build a pool in your backyard which would one day become one of my favorite places in the world.

My grandparents house when my mom, aunt and uncle’s friends would come over to swim, and they’d line their bikes up “wheel-to-wheel”

Always supportive of our “financial endeavors”

You taught me the importance of being together as a family. Your house was the hub of my childhood. Every sunny summer day we swam at your pool. I can still remember the smile on your face and the sparkle in your eyes watching us cousins living out the best childhood at your pool and taking over your “summer house” (the downstairs) like ants at a picnic. You loved watching Claire and me put on ridiculous shows to the Grease soundtrack, and on especially hot days, you would grace us with a quick dip in the pool, even though we had to stop splashing and playing crazy so your hair didn’t get wet.

Not old enough for Grease, but our silly performances started young

Every holiday was spent at your house, and every moment was magic; whether I was sitting at your dining room table with our whole family or holed up with Claire in your front room, turning it into our little play universe. It’s one of the scenes that plays back in my head like a favorite movie whenever I think about my childhood.

You provided wonderful opportunities for us to make the priceless memories as a family. I loved every moment spent with you, but our trips to Disney World filled my childhood with a special brand of magic, imagination, and memories. I will never forget getting stuck in the graveyard scene of the Haunted Mansion ride and Pop-pop making silly ghost sounds to keep us youngsters all laughing instead of being scared. Or the nights spent swimming at the Polynesian (their rock slide was the best) or watching the Neon Light Parade and fireworks from our balconies. Time and time again, you’d tell me about when I wobbled towards you down the Polynesian hallway on chunky, toddler legs, saying, “Mom-mom-mom-mom-mom.”

Because of you and Pop-pop, I have cousins who are more like sisters, and family memories I’ll cherish forever.

And one of my favorites, you taught me to love dancing. Although tap dancing will always be my first true love, I will always cherish the silly moments at home with you dancing to Michael Jackson or Frank Sinatra. Even when some of those times were us dancing around while you helped me clean my perpetually messy room.

I can only imagine the dancing you’re doing now. Maybe Frank is serenading you while the angels give him back up. Or Michael is teaching you to do the Moon Walk. (You never know, he might be up there.) But the thing that brings the biggest smile to my face is knowing that whatever song you’re dancing to, you’re once again able to dance cheek-to-cheek with your favorite dance partner. Tell Pop-pop we all say hi and we miss him too. And I’ll do my best to keep dancing until the day I can dance once more with you.