Dear Mom,
I know, I never call or write; but, neither do you.
Today has been a hard day. It's been 6 years since you left (somehow I still think of it that way - I guess my brain thinks it hurts less, but my heart knows better) and I feel more lost and confused than ever. I've always known that I'd never be able to fill your shoes, but facing today, after my divorce, just confirms it. You managed to build a life with Dad and stay married til the end, and raise 2 children, through a lot of rough times. I couldn't hold it together for four years. I just feel like a failure and I wish you were here so I could talk to you about it and you could tell me what to do. But then, if you'd been here, things would have been very different.
I try not to think about how things would be if you were still here, but sometimes I can't help it. The what-ifs keep me up at night. I can't make them be quiet. If you had been here, I could have called you to ask for advice when I realized that my marriage was a mess. If you had been here, you would have beaten him for not letting me come home for holidays. If you had been here, I would have stood up for myself a lot more because I would have known that I had back up. Don't blame Dad - I pushed him away and wouldn't let him help, just like I always do. We've done the best we can; but, let's face it....you were the crazy glue that kept us all together.
I know that some people probably looked at my Facebook status and thought that I'm delusional. They probably think that I'm remembering things better than they were now that you're gone. I'm not. We had a completely dysfunctional relationship and I have a lot of scars from my childhood. Who doesn't? It's taken a lot of analyzing and crying and yelling and praying for me to come to this conclusion: you were a flawed, imperfect human being who made mistakes and completely screwed me up. But here's the rest of the story: I also know that no matter what, you did what you thought was best for me and it came from love; no matter what, you were there when I needed you, even when I didn't particularly deserve it; no matter what, you loved me just the way I was. You made me who I am today and I wouldn't trade one messed up thing about my childhood.
I remember when I was at IBC and you called me to ask if you were a good mother. You had been reading a book that had a zany, weird mother and a boring, OCD daughter, just like us. The daughter was always wishing for a "normal" mother and you asked if I felt that way. Mama, I have a confession. I lied to you when I answered that question. I told you I didn't wish that, but I wished it all the time when I was growing up. I couldn't understand why you couldn't be like the other moms. What I really wanted was for people to think I was as cool and fun as they thought you were. I didn't want you to be different. I wanted me to be different. But I wouldn't have told you that at that moment for all the gold in Fort Knox. I heard the uncertainty in your voice and knew that you needed validation more than you needed me to tell you how I really felt. How many times had you done that for me? So, please forgive me for that lie. I promise never to lie to you again.
There are so many things that I wish you were here for. Most of all, I just wish you were here to be my mom.
I know, I never call or write; but, neither do you.
Today has been a hard day. It's been 6 years since you left (somehow I still think of it that way - I guess my brain thinks it hurts less, but my heart knows better) and I feel more lost and confused than ever. I've always known that I'd never be able to fill your shoes, but facing today, after my divorce, just confirms it. You managed to build a life with Dad and stay married til the end, and raise 2 children, through a lot of rough times. I couldn't hold it together for four years. I just feel like a failure and I wish you were here so I could talk to you about it and you could tell me what to do. But then, if you'd been here, things would have been very different.
I try not to think about how things would be if you were still here, but sometimes I can't help it. The what-ifs keep me up at night. I can't make them be quiet. If you had been here, I could have called you to ask for advice when I realized that my marriage was a mess. If you had been here, you would have beaten him for not letting me come home for holidays. If you had been here, I would have stood up for myself a lot more because I would have known that I had back up. Don't blame Dad - I pushed him away and wouldn't let him help, just like I always do. We've done the best we can; but, let's face it....you were the crazy glue that kept us all together.
I know that some people probably looked at my Facebook status and thought that I'm delusional. They probably think that I'm remembering things better than they were now that you're gone. I'm not. We had a completely dysfunctional relationship and I have a lot of scars from my childhood. Who doesn't? It's taken a lot of analyzing and crying and yelling and praying for me to come to this conclusion: you were a flawed, imperfect human being who made mistakes and completely screwed me up. But here's the rest of the story: I also know that no matter what, you did what you thought was best for me and it came from love; no matter what, you were there when I needed you, even when I didn't particularly deserve it; no matter what, you loved me just the way I was. You made me who I am today and I wouldn't trade one messed up thing about my childhood.
I remember when I was at IBC and you called me to ask if you were a good mother. You had been reading a book that had a zany, weird mother and a boring, OCD daughter, just like us. The daughter was always wishing for a "normal" mother and you asked if I felt that way. Mama, I have a confession. I lied to you when I answered that question. I told you I didn't wish that, but I wished it all the time when I was growing up. I couldn't understand why you couldn't be like the other moms. What I really wanted was for people to think I was as cool and fun as they thought you were. I didn't want you to be different. I wanted me to be different. But I wouldn't have told you that at that moment for all the gold in Fort Knox. I heard the uncertainty in your voice and knew that you needed validation more than you needed me to tell you how I really felt. How many times had you done that for me? So, please forgive me for that lie. I promise never to lie to you again.
There are so many things that I wish you were here for. Most of all, I just wish you were here to be my mom.
I hope you don't mind if I share this letter with some friends. See, this blog isn't just about me. You taught me to always try to help others and that's what I'm trying to do. I don't have anything important to say, but maybe it could help someone. I think that's what I admire about you most. You always rooted for the underdog, always took in the strays, always brought home the misfit Christmas tree, and always, always, always fought for the people who couldn't fight for themselves. I'm not as strong as you, but I do my best.
I love you, Mom. Wish you were here.
Love,
Sarah Beth
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