Dear Mom...

Dear Mom,

Happy early Thanksgiving. I don't think I'll have it in me to write you on the actual day, between the madness of a houseful of kids and family and the overbearing sense of emptiness.

Okay, that sounded a little over-the-top, but that's it. When I was in Texas, I missed you and Dad a lot. I missed the familiarity of home and the comfort of knowing that even though you were far, I could get there. Through all of it, I knew that if I had shows in Memphis and could skip some extra sleep, I could take a quick 3 hour drive north and visit, even if it was just for a day or so. I knew that on holidays, I'd be able to hang out and probably fall asleep on the couch in your living room.

We all miss you terribly, Mom. I can't imagine what another birthday will be like without the hope of Mom's Texas sheet cake. I hate that I can't just call you and bounce a dumb funny thing off you that I know only you would get. I expected the sadness when you died. I expected the grief and the tears. I just didn't expect the loneliness.

Throughout my entire life, I've been a big nerd. I've managed through most of it with my wit and humor, and always managed to find my own road. Through all of it, though, you were the one who understood me. You were the one who would see further than I could, who knew how my brain worked, at least that's how it always felt. You were my creative muse and writing partner and musical inspiration.

My heart hurts, and for the first time in my entire life the one person who could ALWAYS fix me is gone, further than I can ever drive or fly. I am surrounded by people who love me; I get that. I know I'm not alone, but I know that I am lonely. I have to surrender to the fact that you are gone, and for the rest of my time on earth, I won't ever get to see you or talk to you again.

Mom, I'm lost. I need your help, your direction, your guidance and your friendship. I've turned it over to God so many times since you've left, and it helps, but it doesn't, too. It's hard to say; just typing that, I know you'd know exactly what I meant there. I have no idea what God wants from me anymore. All of the things I've been so passionate about in the last few years seem to just not matter to me any more. I almost wonder if the reason I was vesting myself in these projects and charities was because I felt compelled to show you that I was more than just your creative-yet-frustrating son, trying to earn some parental pride and confidence in your me.

Now that you're gone, I find it hard to write. I find it hard to be creative. I find it hard to sing with passion. I find it hard to care.

I hope that through some divine intervention, I feel your presence and hear your voice in my head, and that you're able to help quiet all of the other voices in my head that keep me from purifying my soul. I don't remember what clarity is like, and normal is right out the window.

I still pray for our family and others. I know that God listens, but I'm through with this year and these trials. I want to see results from prayers. I'd even take an inkling of positive response about any of these things of which I pray. God knows what I need; I hope he helps me. I can't tell what's God's voice and what's the crap that is always swimming around in my mind, keeping me up at night and distracting me from everything else. I want silence, and then God's voice.

Please keep your eye on us. Layla misses you so much. My heart absolutely breaks when I think of how she's going to grow up without you around. I hated your cancer so much, because it stole so much of the last few years away from you two, when she really was bonding with you. I'd give any part of myself for one more chance for Laylabug and Grammy to hang out.

I know we'll make it through the holidays and then onward with our lives. Before you know it, Layla will be in college and I'll be an old man, if I even make it that long. I can't imagine going the rest of my life without hearing your laugh or seeing your smile. I'm not sure what to do, but I do know that I have to keep living so that Layla, Lawson and Carrie will always have a funny, musical person in their lives just like I had growing up. I just wish I would have grown up before you left. To have given you confidence and pride in me would have made me the happiest person on the planet. I'm sorry I wasted so much of our time together here being a lost sheep.

Happy Thanksgiving, Mom. I love you forever. God, help me find something to be thankful for this year. My spiritual basket seems mighty empty right now.