A Letter to my Mother

A letter to my mother –

Thank you so much for instilling in me such virtues and gifts of having a passion for life, celebrating Everything ( including life itself), teaching me kindness and compassion for others. Thank you for cultivating my gifts and talents and cheering me on to use them. I am a better person because you were my mother and I love you.

You put yourself second and always put me first. I went through emotional hell as a child and I was so needy. This was not your fault – you did not know everything that was going on. You tried to get me to open up – to tell you, but I just could not. I am sorry for being so needy that you felt you had to put yourself second. You deserved to put yourself first too because you were a beautiful soul.

You always deserved to be first. And I am sorry I ate up so much of your time and energy. I am sorry for all the times I lashed out at you for being sick – or lashed out at you for the pain that others caused me instead of just telling you…but I felt you were so safe – you would never abandon me – and it is easier to lash out on the ones we feel are safe. That was wrong of me and I apologize.

I wish I could still talk to you. Sometimes in the sanctuary of my mind, I can. In the stillness of my heart, I can feel you. Thank you for STILL being here for me in the only way you can now. And I am sorry that I am STILL so needy for you. But you were the only one that ever did or could love me unconditionally and the only one that ever will. I have learned the meaning of truly loving, unconditionally, from you. Thank you for this gift.

But I am angry too mom, angry and scared. Angry and full of rage. You left me mom. You left me and there was no one to be there for me or to support me emotionally. You left me when I still needed you. You left me with no one to love me. I was Alone.

I still remember as a child, this hiss, hiss, puff. Hiss hiss puff of your oxygen machine. That will forever be ingrained into my mind. I hated it so much. It kept me up all night. Listening to such sad and maddening noises. I was just a child mom, just a child yet I sat by your door, silent and frozen so you would not know I was at your bedroom door. I sat there in the dark for hours listening carefully to make sure you were still breathing. Terrified to hop into bed with you for comfort because I did not want to break you further. I did not want to hear the hiss hiss puff of the machines….machines my nightmares were made of.

And I am angry mom, I am so angry at you. You created such phobias and fears in me – fears I still, to this day, carry with me. Every time I hear or see an ambulance I used to fear it was for you. Now that you are gone, I cringe at the sound of a siren, flooding back a million memories. I know being sick was not your fault, I know that – but you left me mom – you left me when I needed you the most. And I am angry, angry and relieved. Angry you left, thought I know it is not your fault. Relieved you are no longer in pain and also relieved that I no longer have to use every part of me worrying about you. And I feel guilty about that. And I hate myself for feeling like that. I feel like an awful and bad person. But it is how I feel.

The week you passed away, the first things I did was to throw out all your medicine, your cane, your machine, everything that was a reminder of your illnesses. I threw it out for my own freedom of mind – my own relief – but also to honor you. You are now in a place where your body does not fail or wage war against yourself. You were free from all the pain.

But you know what? I am not. I am nowhere near free from the pain. You are free and I am left with guilt and pain. That is not fair mom. And I am angry for it. Right after your death did you know what I did? I started a crazy diet so I would not die and be sick like you. I dieted my way to X pounds – near death myself. But at least it would be My death and not yours. I never want to live and die in the pain you endured.

I still carry your pain. I still carry my pain. None of this has gone away. Even after your death and freedom. I am sorry I was so angry after your death that I went into your room and tore everything part – broke everything into pieces. I regret that so much – but I had nowhere to express this and no one to talk to.

Did you know that your sister blamed me for your death? Did you know how mean she was and still can be? Did you know that your other sister disowned me? Did you know, as a child, the things that happened to me…I know you knew…but I refused to tell the truth….I was afraid - I was conditioned. I could not tell you out of fear you would blame me and hate me. Blame me and hate me – his words. You saw so much, so many clues. You asked me – I covered up and lied, lied like I was supposed to. But you new. Why did you not do something? Why did you not save me and take me away?

I know, as an adult, that you kept me from being there but I was always sent back….but why would you make me still talk to him? Still be around family celebrations? That is not family. But since I know what happened to me I know something horrible also happened in your family. I am so sorry for any pain You had to endure. And you know what? You broke the cycle. You reacted in a different way – you ended the cycle.

But mom, you knew so much. Why did you believe a small child’s lies? Why did you not save me? I grew up believing I was not worthy of saving and I deserved everything. I am not blaming you, I am trying to understand. So many things, so many times, so many people you let hurt me. Did you know that when you sent me to my his house to be punished because you could not handle me – do you know what I endured? The blind rage – the hate, the abuse, both emotional and physical? Do you know the lies I had to say, prompted by my him – to keep everything a secret so that he would not be taken away and I would never see him again – did you know the blame that I took on – yet still, when I was “bad” at home with you – you shopped me to his house…even telling me that he doesn’t love me and will not take care of me. You do not tell that to a child. It was true – but wait until I have grown to discuss that with me…but I guess you could not because you were not around when I was grown.

I am sorry I did not visit you in the hospital more, the many, many near constant tips? Did you know most of my childhood anxiety came from you and your sickness? I know you cared for me and taught me to meditate for anxiety, and lovingly packed paper bags into my backpack for when I hyperventilated out of panic. I know even though you were sick you always tried to make life enjoyable for me. But it was not…how could it be? No, I take that back – I have many, many fond memories…but they seem overshadowed by you are your constant sickness.

I know that being sick was NOT your fault and if you had a choice, you would not have chosen that. I forgive you for being sick. I forgive you for leaving – for that was not your choice. I forgive you for not stopping things that should have been stopped and I even forgive you for believing my lies that everything was okay. And I forgive you for instilling such fear into my very core that the slightest notion of something wrong with my body causes such anxiety that it is hard to function and fears of you flood back. It was crippling thought childhood, and still, as an adult, I battle them.

I love you mom. Nothing can take that away. I just wish I was nicer and more compassionate towards you during your life the way you taught me to treat others. Your last words to me, which I remember in detail, were: “I am sorry I have nothing to give to you”. You were wrong mom! So very wrong. And I tried to tell you but you were too far gone, on your way out to some better place far of this pain, which you could not comprehend what I was saying.

You taught me mom, to show love, compassion and kindness to everyone I meet. To never turn my back on someone hurting and if I am in a position to help, I must because THAT is why I am here. It’s my DUTY to help others in need. That is something I cherish about myself that I learned directly because of you. I did not want money, or property, or a home – I wanted you to know all the wonderful gifts you have given me that made me who I am today and I am damn proud of who I am. I am a better person because you were my mother. And I thank you for that. And I thank you for giving me so much more than you ever knew.

And I am sorry that even though you died in my presence, I did not ease your fear or pain, I did not hold your hand. I HATE myself for that. Hate. All I could do was, in my mind, tell you that it was okay to move on….I just hope to god with everything I am and have, that you could hear or feel my REAL thoughts – the sad, longing, painful thoughts that wanted to me cry out to you, to run to your bed and hold you. To comfort you. To tell you how much you were and are and always will be loved.

I am sorry mom. I am angry mom. I am damaged mom. But I forgive you mom.