A Letter to My Mom
Dear Mom,
Looking down on you, you looked decades younger. The mother of my youth. Your face didn’t have a line on it. Your expression was quiet, restful. You were beautiful…. and it took my breath away.
The suddenness of your death and the pain that ensued was indescribable, completely gut wrenching. Twenty years later, the wound still festers. I have often wondered why the loss of you was so hard. Was it because of unfinished business between us? Possibly. Things left hanging and unsaid, make forgetting and forgiving that much more difficult. But there is more to it than that; and I have come to understand that you and I were in many ways, twin souls.
It has been a few days since my epiphany and I am just now writing to you. I needed time to sit with it, to make sure it was not just an off-base moment of hope. At this time of my life I am desperately wanting a deeper understanding of our relationship; to develop more compassion for you and more healing for me. We had a hard time, you and I.
The voices have been in my head since I can remember. Although I never recognized them for what they really were. They were voices, NOT absolutes. Thoughts, not etched in stone truths. It was self talk that was taught to me. I wasn’t born with this babble that told me I was a bad seed. . . . and neither were you.
I understand the power and the pain of those guileful voices. I thought they were mine alone, but now I know they were yours too. You had no idea, no ability to face the lies you were taught. But I do! Thank God! Alongside that hurt I have for you now that I understand, comes forgiveness and more healing. I’m working on the change, not just for me but for both of us. You deserve to be seen for who you truly were and all you did even with those voices. You were amazing and I know you loved me the best you knew how. Thank you for that.
Love,
Your daughter
Tne Rain
What an amazing night. Nonstop rain every hour. Consistent, heavy, lulling one to sleep and to remember. When was the last time I heard the rain for so long? ’61, ’62? Torrents against the slider, sometimes causing them to shake. Me, mesmerized, as I watched cozy and warm, in San Jose. Mom and little girl. Inside, together. Happy and carefree. Complicated. A lilting tune sung by a tall, beautiful woman. Stunning in her confidence and allure. Both of us dancing to my Shirley Temple record, a gift from Dad. Laughing with love and joy. Then, on a dime, or so it seemed, the music ended. The beautiful woman in a battle of her own. Looming with pain. Bouncing off the walls. She is not at fault. Duck, little girl. You are not at fault. Nope, it doesn’t rain like that in San Jose anymore. Sometimes it helps to remember.
Strength in Adversity
In a blink, changed circumstances
Broken and vulnerable
Relying on the mood
Of others
Knowing you must, but
Fearing the worst
Until you remember
Your good choices made
Hard won
In your recovery
And Who walks with you
The Upper Story 