Little Touch of Heaven

Thea Daniels. Thea didn’t think her mother had known her name, yet there it was, scrawled on the box of her mother’s belongings. It had taken Thea a while before she could even look at the box, let alone think about opening it. The mother who was in this box was a stranger to Thea, not her mom. No, Thea’s mom was downstairs reading in her favorite armchair, like she did every night after dinner. Thea knew none of the habits of the mother in this box, but she knew that would change as soon as she opened it.

The box was packed neatly, though the blanket covering the rest of the contents was riddled with holes. Thea lifted it out carefully, afraid it might disintegrate in her hands. When she unfolded it, she found a large stain in the center discoloring the seafoam green. Her mother must have taken great care to fold the blanket just so to hide the stain when she packed the box. The only other thing in the box was a crimson leather journal with the name Thea Allen written in bold black letters on the front. Thea felt a spark of anger at the name; she had always thought her mom had named her. Shoving those feelings aside, Thea opened the cover of the journal and a piece of paper fell out. She picked it up off the floor and smoothed it out on her desk.

My darling Thea,

I know how you must feel about me, and though I know it won’t make you feel any better, I often feel the same about myself. There are so many things I wish I could go back and change. I would have given up the world if it meant I didn’t have to give you up. You were my little touch of heaven in a dark, dark time.

When I was first pregnant with you, I felt joy for the first time in a long, long time. That joy soon turned to fear. I had no home, no car, no job. I had to resort to stealing prenatals and anything else I might need. I swiped that blanket from a yard sale, and though I tried to save it for you, the nights kept getting colder and I had to use it to keep both of us alive. 

I tried to get a job, I really did, but as you grew, I couldn’t do much anymore. I was lucky enough to have a couple of friends who gave me food when they had extra, which is the only reason we survived. When you were finally born, I took one look at your sweet, sweet face and knew there was no life for you with me. I gave you the one thing I had left to give: my name.

Over the years I have often wondered if I could have kept you, especially once I found work, got an apartment, and had the means to take care of you. It was easy to forget how difficult my life was before, how unfit it was for a child. A few years went by before I got married. I then had two more kids, a boy and a girl. I hope you get to meet them, if you want to.

When I found out I was dying, you were the first thing on my mind. I guess I had always held out hope that I would meet you one day, maybe at a café. I would bump into you, you would introduce yourself, and I would know. Thea. My Thea. I am so sorry I wasn’t there to watch you grow up, but please know that I love you, and I am so, so proud of you.

Love,

Mom

Thea wept. These were the words she had longed to hear her entire life, the ones she had hoped to be true. She had chosen not to have contact with her mother, even after hearing that she was sick. She’d kept thinking maybe later until there was no later left. She hadn’t wanted to know why her mother gave her up, not when it was possible that she just didn’t want her. And she loved her mom, the one who raised her, loved her, praised her, punished her…but didn’t name her.

Thea ran downstairs, letter and journal in hand. “Mom.”

“Yes, sweetie?” her mother asked, placing a bookmark in her book and setting it aside. It was the bookmark Thea had made for her in grade school out of cardboard and red duct tape. She had written “I love you, mom” on it in black sharpie.

Thea shoved the journal at her mom and asked, “Did you know my mother’s name was Thea?”

“Yes, I did. That was about all I knew about her,” Thea’s mom told her. She looked at the journal, but didn’t take it from Thea.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Thea sobbed, “You always used to say, ‘my darling Thea, my little gift from God’, but you never told me that was her name for me.” Thea handed her mom the letter, waiting impatiently while she read it.

Handing the letter back, Thea’s mom asked, “If I had told you, how would you have reacted? Would you have been glad to know, or would you have resented it?”

Thea thought for a second before responding. “I…I guess I would have resented it.”

Thea sat down on the couch next to her mom’s chair and read the letter again. She started to wonder what her mother’s life had been like, before and after Thea was born. Then she started thinking about her mother’s family. She had a husband, kids. They were Thea’s stepdad, her half siblings. If she wanted them.

“Mom?” Thea took her mom’s hand in hers.

“Yes, Thea.” Thea’s mom gave her hand a slight squeeze.

“I think I want to meet them, would that be okay?” Thea looked up from the letter and met her mom’s eyes: soft, warm, full of love and life. She wondered what her mother’s looked like.

“Of course, sweetie,” her mom said, “The funeral is on Saturday, you can meet them then.”

Thea stood at a distance, watching the crowd of people, the crowd of strangers. She wondered who was related to who, who was related to her. She wondered if anyone knew who she was. Thea stood frozen, too afraid to step forward, unwilling to step back. Once she took a step, either way, she was altering her life forever. Then she saw them. A boy and a girl, standing on either side of a man. Thea’s feet carried her forward without her knowledge, until she was right in front of them. They looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to introduce herself. Thea’s mouth struggled to form words, struggled to move at all.

Finally, she got out, “Hi, I’m Thea.”