A Letter to a Lost Mother

Dear Mom,

It has almost been fifteen years since you died. I was only eighteen, still a child. Of course, I didn’t think so. I’ve learned so much since then. I’ve changed in a lot of ways. I’m older, wiser and can look back and understand things much better than I did at the time. I really wish I could speak to you again, if only for a moment. There was so much tension, bad blood and just so many things that was never settled. As much as I’ve tried to move on I can’t honestly say I have. As much as I grieve, it never seems to lessen. I’m even crying right now just trying to write this letter that you’ll never read.

There’s a saying I heard once that always sticks in my mind: “Parents are God in the eyes of a child.” It sounds strange, but it really does make sense. Parents are your creators. They take care of us and provide so we can grow. They make the rules for children to follow. And they’re love is just so important. If the ones that made you don’t love you, don’t even like you, are you worthy to exist? That’s how I felt. All I wanted to do was make you proud, to be worthy.

Then I got older. I became a stubborn rebellious teenager. It was a rough part of my life. I was trying to assert myself and be more independent. You and Dad were getting divorced and I was constantly pulled in the middle of it. High school was coming to an end and my whole future was about to open up. You died a few days before my graduation. You never got to see it. It wasn’t much I suppose. Things went like you’d expect. I don’t really remember much about that day. I didn’t really care at the time. The future didn’t seem to matter anymore. They put you in a box and then life goes on. Then everyone goes back to their lives. Did any of it really matter at all? Were you happy with what you accomplished with your life?

We had so many I still remember problems that never got put to rest. I still remember when you told me the divorce was my fault. We didn’t get along at all. I never really understood why you always had to argue with me. Did you enjoy taking digs at me? You could have just been quiet but you always had to press my button and rile me up. Were you really that mad at me or were you just angry and I was just in the way. Did you hate me? You never said it, but you did say some horrible things. I did too, but I was a moody teenager. What was your reason? I really mean that. You said once that the reason I always argued with you was because I was just like you. What did you see in me that was like you? Is that why you did it? Did you see something in me that you hated in yourself?

Now that I’m older I understand people better. You were no God, just a person. You weren’t perfect. No one is. I only knew you as my mother, but I never really got to know you as a person. I wish I had got the chance to meet you. I feel like if I could understand who you were, I could make more sense of things. I know you had four sons. I know you always wanted a girl. I know you had cancer before I was born. I can only imagine what a struggle that was. You thought you were going to die… but you didn’t. What toll that must have taken on your mind…

Then you had an autistic son. I know the stresses I had having S as a brother, but I never really thought about how hard it was for you and Dad to deal with. You always had to give him extra care and I understand that. Though there was this one night when you came into our room to tuck S in and you kissed his head and said you loved him. I was there too. I was still awake. Why didn’t you tuck me in? I was never really that big of a problem. I never got in trouble with the law. I did well in school. It always seemed like you and Dad never really took an interest in raising me, teaching me or watching me grow.

These are just a few of the things I know, but you had a whole life before me. You had other families. You were married before Dad and you had other sons. I haven’t seen B or C since your funeral. You were really the only thing that tied us all together. I feel sad that our family was always so distant. Whenever holidays come around I always wonder what it would have been like if things were different. I wonder what it would be like to have brothers I could talk to, but we’re not really family anymore. I don’t even know where they are.

Someday I’d like to build a family of my own where we were all bonded together, but I don’t know if that will ever really happen. I’m terrified that I’d mess it up. I wouldn’t want to have any children that grew up never being sure if I loved them. I don’t even know if I know how to. I can’t remember the last time you told me you loved me, the last time you hugged me, the last time I felt soothed.

I wonder if you were alive right now if anything would have changed between us. I wonder what kind of relationship we’d have if any at all. I’ve forgiven you for all the things you did. I’m not angry any more. I’ve tried hard to understand you. I wonder if I’ve just created an idealized version of you in my mind to help me do so. The person I think you were now is probably not who you actually were.

I remember at your funeral someone told me to take care of Dad. We were always fighting and I wonder if people thought I really hated you. I wondered if they thought I was fine with the fact you were dead. I always cared. At the core of it I was always angry with you because of who I wanted you to be. I wanted you to understand me. I wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted you to really know me. Most of all I wanted you to love me. I didn’t want you to say it I wanted to feel it and I just didn’t. Though I guess if we didn’t care about each other we wouldn’t have bothered arguing. I just don’t think we ever got a chance to understand each other.

However after all this time, there is one thing that I think will truly haunt me forever. When I was little you always had so many rings. I’d always play with them. You planned to give one of them to each of your boys and you told me to pick the one I liked the best. I chose the orange blossom ring with the diamond in the center. You told me that one day when I grew up you’d give it to me to use as an engagement ring if I ever got married someday. Then a bit before you died when school was coming to an end, one day you left me a card in my room. It was a congratulatory card and inside you wrote a really kind and heartfelt note. And along with that card you left me that ring.

But I was still bitter and mad at the time so I just took it and gave the card and ring back. That was probably the one time when you really tried to reach out to me, to make peace. That’s the one thing that still makes me think we could have patched things up in time. But I gave it back… I didn’t know that was our last chance. I was surprised you remembered that conversation. You remembered the ring I chose when I was just a little kid. You remembered that you promised to give it to me. It was important enough for you to remember and it really showed that in spite of everything you cared. But I gave it back…

Shortly after, Dad and I moved out when you two separated. Then you had your wreck and C moved in and started taking everything valuable. Then you died and everything was gone. I really wished I’d kept that ring. I don’t have anything to remember you. That ring was supposed to be mine and losing you made it just that much more important. I mean it’s been fifteen years and your estate still isn’t even settled. I’ve been trapped in this never ending grief unable to move on because it still feels unfinished. I can’t seem to fix anything. I’m sorry. I really wish I could just get one thing right.

I do see that there is a lot of you in me. We’re similar in a lot of ways. You were smart, always thinking, kind to others and maybe a bit lonely too. I think I understand that now, most of all. When I was little I always loved to hear you talk, whether it was to me or just sitting in on a conversation between you and someone else. I could listen to you talk about anything. You always talked a lot and I’ve always been quiet. That’s a part of me I got from being around you. I still love to listen to people talk.

When I visited you in the hospital you were always sedated. They had a tube down your throat and strapped you down because you kept trying to pull it out. I held your hand, but I don’t know if you could even tell if I was there. I tried to talk but I just didn’t know what to say. I wish we could have had just one last conversation. I wish I knew what you were thinking. What would you have told me if you could? What last words would you have left me with? If for a moment we could have just put everything to the side and just spoke. I would have told you that I was sorry for everything and I would forgive you for everything. You were my mom and I am proud to be your son. Thank you for everything and of course I love you. I always did and I always will. I’d never want you to doubt that and I hope you never did.

With love,

Your son