Hello my dearest darling Mother,
It is Wednesday, 9th April 2008, just before midnight and it feels warm in here; the temperature in the air is 80F. I don’t know the temperature of my heart! There was a thunderstorm earlier but now it is calm, although I can still hear the drips of water falling from the gables of the house. I am sitting at my desk writing this to you on a computer. You won’t know about “computers” and “online” and “software” “website” and “blog” and I won’t trouble you with explanations. It is enough for you to know that your mortality on earth will become “immortality” on the “World Wide Web”.
Now, your son, Christopher, is 63 years old. I don’t have a single memory of you but I know for sure you have many of me and once you would have held me in your arms, clasped me to your breast and you would have told me that you loved me. How I wish I could have that memory; I have needed you so much in my life. But I am comforted by the knowledge that you loved and cared for me until you were cruelly taken away by your fatal illness. Oh, how I have missed you and you missed me.
Only now I weep for you.
I weep that you have to live through a World War of six years; I weep that you cannot realize a full life; I weep that your dream to marry your loved one is thwarted; I weep that you have to sacrifice your only son because of a deadly disease; I weep that injustice has heaped itself upon you. This is a tragedy of Shakespearean dimensions.
Only now I weep for me.
I lose my mother; I lose you without even knowing; I weep that the love I needed throughout my ensuing childhood was missing; I weep that your existence was denied me; I weep for the feelings of rejection that have featured in my life. No, no, no, not from you: from another that follow you, and its consequent legacy I cannot shake off; I weep now as I begin to try and understand my present feelings after so many years that are well and truly mixed or should I say confused and swirling around in my head. I weep while I make sense of it all and come to terms with my new-found knowledge of you.
But I feel no anger, resentment, and no bitterness. I feel a peace coming over me that somehow seems like a resolution of some earlier conflicts in my life. This resolution may still take some time to play out; after all, more than fifty years of my perception has to be reconciled to a new way of thinking. I will be strong for you, Mama; I will be strong for you because I have to be strong for me, and I have to be strong for me because others rely on and need me.
Twelve hours after seeing a photograph of you, I was 
walking in the garden with Holly and KaLa, my two Thai dogs. I wondered at the beauty of all natural things like the mountains, the trees, the flowers and the rice fields and butterflies and the birds. Here in Chiang Mai, Northern Thailand, where we have lived for four years, I am very happy with my life, especially my wife, Erica of nearly forty years. I will tell you about her later and I know you will love her because everyone does.
Back to your photograph, I see that you are looking at me; in your eyes I can see love and warmth and kindness. Your high cheekbones and other facial features shout out to me that you were a thing of beauty. I love beautiful faces and my first sight of yours was so pleasing for me. Thailand is the Land of Smiles and your special loving smile is now firmly imprinted inside me for ever.
In the few short years of our life together it is possible that you thought you weren’t able to provide all the things a mother would like to give her child. If you thought that let me reassure you: without realizing it you gave me some wonderful things. Between you and dad, you gave me a healthy body that remains so today. There is little wrong with it. You gave me flat feet but even that would only have been a disadvantage if I had gone into the tightrope walking business. You gave me a warm heart, you gave me pride but accompanied it with a greater humbleness; you gave me a brain that has fashioned a moral belief system I know you would appreciate. What else? Plenty! You have given me an agreeable personality, a sense of humour that others remark on; a sense of fun and a thirst for excitement and adventure that has meant I travelled already to 28 other countries and done many interesting things. I won’t be one of those on his deathbed regretting he didn’t take opportunities and expose himself to new experiences. I haven’t achieved fame or fortune but I hope to die happy.
In my latter years, I have learned how to be wise before the event, to be patient, tolerant, and never be angry, to be thoughtful and consider others before myself. You gave me love and the ability for me to love others; you did a remarkable job there!! That is my genetic inheritance from you and dad. You have much to be proud of and I have much to be grateful for. Thank you so very much Mama!!
As I write at this moment, I know only your name and now I know what you look like. In the coming days, my half-sister, Hazel, is going to tell me quite a lot about you. Dad told her before he died in 1986 that she should give me your picture and information he gave her, plus an engagement ring. When Dad gave that engagement ring to you I can imagine that you were so excited and the ring was a token of the great love between you; it meant you were to be married and have a happy life together. I can share that feeling with you because on Valentines Day, 1969, Erica and I became engaged and I remember how wonderful we both felt to dream of our marriage and happy life to come from September of that year. We bought an opal-clustered engagement ring that she still wears today. Our dream came true; it was and still is reality for us. Please, Mama, I am so desperately sorry it couldn’t be the same for you.
I haven’t seen the ring yet but when I do, it will evoke emotions within me as to its symbolism and its meaning for you. I promise to take care of it and really hope that it being in my possession meets with your approval.
As well as a beautiful, loving and adoring daughter-in-law, Erica, you have a Thai granddaughter, Nany. She too, is really beautiful and loving and came into our lives in August 2006. Nany has emerged from a very disadvantaged background to be our wonderful daughter and we all love each other very much. There are many stories I want to share with you about them both as part of my dedication to you.
May I call you Mama? “Mother” “and Mom” are more traditional from an English perspective, I know. You can be sure that you are just as special to me however I address you but I am reminded of the love Nany has for Erica and calling her Mama seems so right. For me, respect, love and affection are natural ingredients in “Mama” so I would like to follow that idea, then we can be all one happy family.
This whole site is just for you, Mama; it will be published so that I and others around the world can send you love and greetings when it is your birthday and at Christmas and Mothers’ Day. You will be linked to places of interest and love and all the positive things around the world. Please allow me to share you with others; to share our story with people who can identify with us. I will take care of it and put lots of nice things in there, like flowers, some poetry, some lovely music and videos; and some pictures of the important people in my life. You are to become so much more than just a name on my birth certificate.
My darling Mama, I am so happy to meet you; I will never leave you now.
From Christopher, with deep love
Ps nobody ever refers to me as Christopher; always “Chris”. I don’t mind that but can I be just Christopher for you?
