The Mother I Use to Know

There was a time when I thought you were perfect. And not in that superficial, I-love-you-so-you’re-perfect way. I really did think you were perfect. Anytime I didn’t know the answer, you had it. If I didn’t know how to do something, you did. You were everything to me, but I never could have imagined who you would become. You were my perfect example of who I wanted to be when I grew up. But now I’m grown, and that woman I used to admire no longer exists.

Don’t get me wrong. I do love you. You are and will always be my mother. But you’ve changed, and I’ve changed, and that means that everything we use to be has changed. Sometimes it feels like we’re still playing the part of that perfect mother-daughter duo, and sometimes I can forget about everything else and fall into that role happily.

But then the truth hits me all over again when your phone rings and you silence it before anyone can question it. And then the lies begin. You don’t have to lie, but you know how we’ll react. So you do. Lie. Again and again. You know you shouldn’t be with that man. He isn’t right. He isn’t good. But you go back anyways.

I used to try to make excuses for you. You just weren’t lucky in love. You didn’t mean to choose bad men, but bad men seem to always choose you. You just didn’t know how to be in any other kind of relationship. The first guy, I excused. He was a veteran, he had his own issues, and even though it took far too long, you took yourself out of the situation (though not before I nearly had to pull a gun on him).

And the second guy. I actually thought he was good, and you were happy, and it seemed okay. There were some arguments, some anger, but it seemed normal. I think you were just better at hiding the bad at this point. It took him setting himself on fire and knocking you across the room before I found out. You showed up at the door bloodied and half-dressed. Something a daughter should never have to see. The police were called, a report was filed, and the relationship ended.

When you brought home the new guy, I wanted to be supportive. He was nice enough. He was kind to you, to me, to your granddaughter. Everything was going great. But the more he was around the more unsettled I became. I tried to talk to you about it. You admitted that he had just gotten out of prison on an assault charge, but that he wasn’t a bad guy. But I could feel that something was wrong, and you knew it too. I know you knew it. But you ignored me, and you ignored your own feelings.

That night was a night I will never forget. We could hear the fight inside but you two never left the driveway. We had to hurry your granddaughter upstairs, away from it all, while I went outside to investigate. But I was too late. I stepped outside just as he sped away in our truck. You were lucky that our neighbors were outside. They helped you and scared him off. But he had already done his damage. Your nose was nearly broken, and you were, once again, covered in your own blood.

He went back to prison.

And I was left to pick up the pieces of you.

So why? Why did you go back to him? I don’t understand. You use to be my idol. And now all you do is lie to me.

My big confession to you is that I know. I know he calls you every night. I know you text him when you can. I know you had dinner and didn’t come home until morning. I know every single time you lie to me.

My confession is that I miss the mother I use to know.

I love you, mom, but do better.