Dear Darling Son and That Person You Married,
 
Merry Christmas to you, and please don't worry. I'm just fine considering I
can't breathe or eat. The important thing is that you have a nice holiday,
thousands of miles away from your ailing mother. 
 
I've sent along my last ten dollars in this card, which I hope you'll spend
on my grandchildren. God knows their mother never buys them anything nice.
They look so thin in their pictures, poor babies.
 
Thank you so much for the birthday flowers, dear boy. I put them in the
freezer so they'll stay fresh for my grave. Which reminds me -- we buried
Grandma last week. I know she died years ago, but I got to yearning for a
good funeral so Aunt Berta and I dug her up and had the services all over
again. I would have invited you, but I know that woman you live with would
have never let you come. I bet she's never even watched that video tape of
my hemorrhoid surgery, has she?
 
Well son, it's time for me to crawl off to bed now. I lost my cane beating
off muggers last week, but don't you worry about me. I'm also getting used
to the cold since they turned my heat off and am grateful because the frost
on my bed numbs the constant pain. 
 
Now don't you even think about sending any more money, because I know you
need it for those expensive family vacations you take every year. Give my
love to my darling grandbabies and my
regards to whatever-her-name-is -- the one with the black roots in her hair
who stole you screaming from my bosom.
 
Merry Christmas!
 
Love,
Mom