Cheryl Shireman lives in the Midwest on a beautiful lake with her husband, Bruce. She has three children and one adorable granddaughter who calls Cheryl “Bomb Bomb.” Cheryl’s first novel is the bestselling Life Is But a Dream: On the Lake. Subsequent novels include Broken Resolutions and Life Is But a Dream: In the Mountains. Cheryl also authored the beloved, bestselling non-fiction book You Don’t Need a Prince: A Message to My Daughter. She writes full-time and right now is at work on her four-book Cooper Moon fiction series (probably in her pajamas and staring out the window at the lake).
Find Cheryl online at cherylshireman.com
––––––––
Christy Hayes
Dear Peggy B.,
––––––––
Whenever I think of you, my face does this funny pouting thing and then I smile. I pout because you are no longer here with us and I know our lives would have been so much different if you hadn’t left us so soon. I smile when I think of you because it is impossible to remember you and not smile.
To me, you died the day you had heart surgery and suffered a massive stroke. The you that I loved has been gone so much longer than your physical body. I’m glad you were around physically to see your grandchildren born and to know their names, but you didn’t know them and they certainly didn’t know you. Not the real you.
You’re still here, Peggy, because your fire and passion lives in your son, grandson, and granddaughter. They have so much of your confidence and strength. If your heart hadn’t failed, if you hadn’t elected to have surgery, you would have been at our house daily to see your grandchildren and to shower them with your unending well of love. It’s hard to say that they miss something they never experienced, but I think deep down they know something’s not as it should have been.
You were a constant source of emotion to me. I loved all the sass in that little firecracker body of yours. You were a force to be reckoned with and a mother-in-law worthy of respect and fear. You had your son wrapped around your little finger. He adored you and I know he misses you more than words could ever express. Your husband is a mess without you, even after all these years. There are so many times I wish you could scream down from heaven, “Oh, get over it, Ed,” especially when I’m trying to talk him into getting a dog. He needs some unconditional love and something to need him.
I know you are happy in heaven with your beloved daughter, meeting new people and showering your love on everyone you befriend. I know you watch over us and I hope you are proud of the family we’ve made. You did a fine job raising your son and we’re trying to emulate your example in raising our children. These teenage years are not for wimps and I wish you could offer some guidance. I know when we see you again you’ll wrap us in your arms and tell us we did the best we could.
Some people go through life and when they’re gone it leaves a ripple on the surface. You left an earthquake in your wake and we’re all the better for it, even though we’re still trying to pick up the pieces and cobble a life together without you. We love you, Peg.
Until we meet again...