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Chronic Illness - Chronic Pain Articles Available to Read and Reprint

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A Son's Love: A Letter From a Son to His Mom with a Chronic Illness

By Todd Kennemer

Dear Mom,

I got your letter today with a copy of the article that you had written for the newspaper. I tried to read it to Beth as we left the post office for our rooms. Halfway through the second paragraph, I stopped. I couldn't go on. I started to cry. "That's my mom," I said. I looked at the picture on the page. "That's my mom."

Millions have read the article, but none of them can say that the woman in the picture is their mom. They haven't seen you struggling up the stairs or crying in the middle of the day, at the end of your rope. You're my mom... I'm sorry for all the times I've argued over meaningless things with you while you're battling fatigue and just the desire to keep going.

I'm sorry for the grief I've caused by simply not humbling myself before you when I should have. I read on and kept wishing I had dropped out of school and protected you everywhere you went. I wanted to punch that guy as I read, more than anyone who could have read the article, because I am the only person in the world that is a part of you.

I'm still sobbing as I write this, and I guess I'm trying to tell you that I love you very much. I know I was never very good at saying it, but I do. I wanted to stop right there as I was walking and hold up the article above my head and yell, "This is my mom, and I am proud of her!!" I love you so much mom, and I am proud of you.

Most people have no reason to keep going in life, with multiple sclerosis or not, but you press on through every painful day, out of love for God and for dad and I. I slack in my studies, I don't practice my music, I don't read my bible every day, I forget to pray, and my mom has not ceased praying for me for as along as I can remember, and even before. I don't feel worthy to be your son. I love you, mom. Deryl always had better cookies in his lunch and Brent always got more presents, but they won't ever have what I have, something far greater than all the Christmas presents and cookies in the world, and that's you as their mom.

I'm the luckiest guy in the world. Between you, dad and God, I got the best possible combination a person could have. I'm sorry it took this disease to make me truly appreciate you mom, but through the disease some of your best qualities have come through. Just ask dad. I love you mom. I'll let you go, I'm probably not making much sense.

I love you,


PS: I love you too, Dad!

Get a free download of 200 ways to reach out to someone who is hurting from Beyond Caseroles: 505 Ways to Encourage a Chronically Ill Friend when you sign up for hopenotes, a monthly ezine.