Dear Mom,

I love you.

These three words mean a whole lot of nothing, so what do I really mean?

I mean to say, I understand.

I understand all that you do. The early mornings and the late nights, your endless desire to support, and the strength you display as the backbone of our home. Your empathy is the thread that sews our family. I understand that I’m only me because of you. Understanding that the man I am today is credited to you. Understanding that I can’t possibly understand all that you do—I can only attempt to.

I mean to say, I appreciate.

I appreciate your willingness and your ability to fight—your persistence and incorruptible ability to accept responsibility. In the last year, I’ve tried to take some of this from you—only then could I develop an appreciation for the magnitude of your devotion. I appreciate your unconditional love.

I mean to say, I learn.

I learn from you each day. I’ve learned about the importance of discipline, temperance, and self-respect. I admire your confidence and priorities in life. I’ve learned through you the power of parenthood, the role of emotions, and the value of education.

Motherhood is a lens through which you view life. While I’ll never be able to see through the same lens, I hope to emulate and model the same behaviour in my life; as a grandson, as a son, as a husband, as a father, and as a student of life.

Hopefully the waffles I made come close to pre-COVID brunch. (I know they don’t, but you won’t say so…)