Marrying George Clooney

Dear Mom,

It’s been almost a year. Tuesday, this tuesday, is a year. So much has happened this year.
Let’s see…
Ken retired. He’s happy and oh, so content. I’m trying to be content & happy about his retirement. Somedays are easier than others. But he’s so enjoying his life. As you know, he doesn’t golf, so we won’t be moving to Florida, it’s just not his thing. We so love our home in Pennsylvania, it’s so gorgeous and spacious and beautiful and oh so glorious. I wonder… did I ever thank you – really truly thank you – for the gorgeous dining table you and dad bought us when we renovated the house? I think i did, but still. So much reminds me of you. So much. Thank you for the gorgeous dining table.

It’s spring and Ken is now in full garden mode. As you know, I’m not a gardener. I stand and wave to him from inside the house. I wave and smile and give him a hearty thumbs up. He gardens and I write. He loves his garden. His pride. And yes, joy. Great joy.

We moved out of New York City in December. Remember when you stayed with us in that rental up in Inwood, you had such a good time, ken took you on a date night, and you ate at Mama’s and the food was too spicy and you asked for them to ‘make it sweeter.” Maybe you don’t remember that, You didn’t remember a lot then. But you did have such a glorious time with Ken. It was time for us to leave NY, and it was very hard for me to leave. I had been living in the city since I was what … sixteen, seventeen… but with Ken retiring and all, and us not needing to be in the city as often, we thought it would be good to be living here, at home, full time. And a good time to downsize, save some money (I of course, was never a saver… like you… apple doesn’t fall too far, huh?). Did i ever thank you for the apartment — the one on 71st street? I just want you to know what joy and happiness that home brought me, and then, of course, Ken, us. It made me feel so grown up and at peace. A gorgeous lovely home. When we sold it a few years ago, we took some of the money , and started a Scholarship for Women at the Omega Institute, and a yearly fund at MoMA for young artists from underprivileged homes. And yes, we keep contributing to those funds and scholarships every single year. I think five or six young women were able to go on full workshops and summer programs at Omega, so thank you. Thank you so much mom for making that possible. For contributing to the future generation of young amazing women.

Bella and Lotus are doing so well. They’re so adjusted and sweet, and bring us such joy. Oh my god. Lotus is very fat now. She has “Hillary Clinton’s legs,” and Bella, well, Bella is sleek and sexy. Two gorgeous cats. And, full disclosure, no more secrets mom … they’re lesbian’s. I know you may not wholeheartedly approve of their lifestyle, you may be wincing just a teeny bit, you were always leaning a little bit on the side of prejudice …. but we — ken and I – felt that they loved each other so much and with so much ease, that it was best to let them be. They’re really adorable, especially when they lick each other and kiss on the lips. We’ve also decided against trying to get them into any kind of feline group therapy thing. It’s plain & clear, they love pussy. Why fight it,

No, I haven’t spoken to Bruce, and that’s okay. It’s okay now. At first it was very painful and hard. All the “bad girl” stuff came up, the not feeling good enough, the not doing enough, the “oh my god i should have done more,” or visited more… so many bad feelings and guilt and shame came up over and over, but over time and with some great friends, and Ken, and a really good therapist I realized that i did do enough and our relationship “the sibling relationship” was shaky at best, so… some things fade away and that’s okay. It’s really okay. My therapist breathed some new life into me. Maybe the next time around, we’ll all do a bit better at the family thing.

I wanted to tell you how sorry, how deeply and profoundly sorry I was about something that had happened on one of my visits to you … when I made you cry. I think about that all the time. I do, Mom. You and I had such a difficult relationship at times, not always, but some of the time, and on that day when you yelled at me, and screamed at me, and made me feel so bad about myself … you got very, very impatient, and i didn’t mean to say such a mean horrible thing back at you. But it came out – I blurted it out — I had no idea that you couldn’t control yourself, that your life was slipping away inch by inch and that you had so little control over your own body and physical self. I didn’t know it then. But I saw … I saw in your eyes, how embarrassed you were. It broke my heart. I can still see you standing in the hallway, your hand covering your mouth and your tears and the puddle you were standing in. Good god, I hurt you. I deeply hurt you. i said awful things and maybe mom … maybe just maybe … I was trying to get back at you for having hurt me. Your words cut deep and hurt so much. You said so many awful things to me over the years, nasty stuff that stung, and didn’t often heal quickly. Maybe you didn’t mean it, maybe you just reacted. We all react and say things we don’t mean. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was a “fuck you, no no fuck you” kind of thing. Remember the card you sent me years ago? On the cover, it said DEAR FUCK-FACE , and inside it read: I LOVE YOU MORE. remember it? I still have it. It sits on my desk. And then, I sent the exact one to you? Remember? I guess we had a ‘fuck you, love you’ thing going on. I also have a postcard that Daddy sent you before you were married where he writes about how Webster, “Mr. Daniel Webster,” didn’t understand the word love because the webster definition was so mundane, so pedestrian, and how if Mr. Webster knew you he would define love so much differently. With passion and fury and a heart bursting open.

You and Dad loved each other so deeply, so profoundly. I can only imagine how difficult for you to have to give more. I wished you could have loved us a bit more, with less conditions attached. Maybe next time. Maybe we’ll all get it right next time around.

I so deeply miss you mom. And I’m sorry if you were at all disappointed that I didn’t visit more. Maybe you were. Maybe in the beginning you were, and in the end, you didn’t know. But, I gotta say, I didn’t want to come and visit more… too much sadness, too much unresolved, nasty issues – a fractured family at best, so much blame and nastiness spreading around … so much was churning. So much hurt. So much shit that was unresolved resurfaced and played over and over and there seemed to be no where to talk it through, or walk it through without being blamed or criticized, or land mines exploding. and maybe you never understood, or couldn’t understand what was going on around you. You were in your own new world.

Maybe sometimes, we just learn and grow and wake up one day, and BOOM, we feel full. Or at the very least, feel fuller. Not quite so hungry. I wanted to love you better at the end. I did. To give you more. I did. I wanted you to know that i didn’t need you to love me anymore, I wasn’t that little girl anymore, and I wanted you to know that it was okay… it was. So very, very very okay. When you’re a little girl you want your mom to think the world revolves you and that everything you do is wonderful and swell … I know it was hard for you. It was. But please know Ken fills me, and my friends fill me and my work and writing fills me… and I am not the sad lonely unhappy troubled lost little girl any more. I am a joyous, fulfilled glorious woman. Oh my god, I am.

As far as what I’ve inherited from you: oh, my goodness, aside from your laugh, which i just always loved … your absolute love of dancing. Oh good god, I just love to dance, eyes closed, body moving… swaying, dancing. I just wish I could watch you dance one more time. And, oh ….I Love pearls. Yes, i do. I wear them almost everyday. With a black sheath and heels, or tee shirts and jeans. Thank you mom, thank you so much for wanting me to have your lovely pearls, and just so you know, what i did, I took your choker pearl that you wore all the time (i sent Erica the Mobe drop piece), and I had them strung together with the pearls you gave me when I got engaged to Ken and had them strung back to their original “opera” length. I love them. Thank you. And I used black silk instead of white, and god do they look sexy and gorgeous.

I also inherited your tremendous lack of patience. Ken unfortunately is on the receiving end of that. I’m not particularly proud of that, but I’ll take impatience over intolerance any day of the week. A small blessing.
On the really good side, I inherited your skin … your gorgeous, gorgeous skin. And no, mom, I wear no make-up, none at all, and yes, I know that drives you mad. Completely nuts. But, you know, less is more. And I look lovely. I do.

Let’s see what else.

My book is doing just great. Women love it. They do. I’m living my passion and my mission. I love my publisher, Krista, and she’s turned out to be such a great friend. Like a best buddy, I adore her. She’s working – co-authoring – with Ken & i on the play — yes A PLAY — based on my book, which Eliza & Frank are doing. Remember Eliza, she was one of Kathy’s closest friends. We just love them, Frank & Eliza, a wonderful joyous amazing collaboration. Oh, and Krista, she’s a lesbian too! So… better get used to women loving and respecting and honoring each other much much much more now. Next time around, you’ll see what I mean. You’d love Krista.

Okay, Mom, I’m tired now, It’s late.
I miss you.
And for the record… you were a great teacher mom, you were. Because of you, I learned to love better, to be kinder, to be more compassionate, to forgive others, and to remain true blue … I learned that life is not only short, it’s filled with unexpected moments. One should never put off telling another person how much they mean to them.

I ache for you some times. Truly.
And today when I ached for you, I reached out to my new friend, Melody, and she filled that void and made me feel loved.

Thank you mom, for opening my heart to others.

Thank you for having brought me into the world. For giving me life.
I promise I will not squander one bit of it. And I know there were times when I was younger that was your greatest fear, my squandering my life away. Oh, the lessons we learn… a life is not be squandered. It is to be used and loved and cherished and valued.

In memory of you, i will use my life fully, everyday.
I wish you were here.
I believe, although I’m not 100% sure — you were a bit hard to read – that you would be so fucking proud of my life.

But you know Mom, next time… next time we’re gonna get it right.
Sleep well. Pleasant dreams.
And more than anything I hope you have found some peace.

I love you.