Dear Mom....
I know you are thinking that I am going to say horrible things to you....I know you are afraid that I am going to remind you of all the painful things that happened between us; but, this letter isn't about that...all of that happened long ago...in a warped world that we existed in...together.
You see....I want you to know that I see you....I always did. Sometimes, I walk by a mirror and I see your face. Tiny smile lines...your lips...your eyes...I am your legacy...your doppelganger. I look just like you....if you had been happy. I have your hands, your unmistakable, booming, raucous laugh and I cry when something touches me....deep in my heart. It must have been difficult to watch me grow up looking like you....hating yourself.
I remember the good...I remember you singing to me and how it made me drift off to sleep, my head pressed against your knee, as you sat on the edge of my bed. During those moments, I think you loved me. Or, when you taught me to knead bread or make cookies....your hands cupped around mine. Or, when I would catch you humming softly to yourself, alone....you looked so peaceful....Or, when you would let me sneak crystallized honey with my little fingers and you would pretend that you didn't notice the tiny tracks I left behind...when I made you laugh....
Do you know how talented you were?...so gifted...brilliant writer...outside the box thinker...beautiful voice...creative beyond belief....an entire Christmas tree filled with your crafts...all made by your hands...popcorn strung by you....no money and the most beautiful tree....
Do you know that you gave me your amazing gifts? Do you know that I think about you? Do you know how old I am? Do you know the things that I have failed...the people....myself? Do you know that I know the things that were beyond your control? Do you know that I know you were terrified...all the time? Do you know that I know you felt invisible, because I have felt that too...many times?
I thank you for your manic, impulsive moments that led to running through sprinklers on other people's lawns or pancakes in the middle of the night or sitting on piles of laundry telling jokes that didn't make sense. I'm sorry that we had so few of those moments, and though you couldn't help those crazy, wonderful slices of time, I replicate them, keeping those memories alive for us...you and me.
You always told me, during the pain, all you ever wanted was for me to be free....free to do whatever I wanted...to be who I wanted to be....I am, Mommy, I am....I'm so sorry that means I am without you. I did what you wanted to do....and it hurts me that you couldn't. And, I forgive you...I think I did a long time ago. I want you to know that all I ever wanted...was for you to be free too...
I love you...I choose to love only those wonderful things about you that came together to make me who I am...and, I grieve for those parts of you that caused us both pain....I hope that some part of you is happy...that maybe the great divide between us gives you room to breath...to spread your wings...because I have spread mine....and I'm flying....
Your daughter,
Michelle...your belle
Oh my God.
ReplyDeleteIt was time.
DeleteI reiterate Jamie's "Oh my God". I am sitting up in bed this morning and crying over the keyboard as I read your blog and write this..God Mickie..not sure how many more of these incredible posts I can take. Now I'm going to reread it and have a really good cry again. I hope you could sleep after writing that. I might just curl up in bed and spend the rest of the day here.
ReplyDeleteP
I slept like a baby...maybe..you have a letter of your own that you need to write too...it might be time...you'll be in my heart today... :)
DeleteRemember what Ellis said, "It's not the problem that's the problem. It's how you view the problem, that's the problem." Viewing our parents through the emotional lens of an 8 year old just takes us back to a helpless point where an angry violent giant ruled how we thought and acted.. Using an adult perspective yeilds more logic and (hopefully) less emotional crap..
ReplyDeleteAnd, of course, you are on the right track.. The "Switch" for self pity has always been gratitude.. I predict you will soon run out of things to write about if you continue to develop emotionally.. But hey--Personally, liked the tradgically flawed, fem fatal, crippled super-hero, someday someone will write a song about my pain, man eater persona you had before all this self examination stuff.. Who will you be after all this is done? The world had better wake up and smell the catfood.. Dr. Boof
Dear Dr. Boof-
ReplyDeleteI would love to say that dealing with my demons will help me run out of things to say, but I think we both know that I rarely run out of things to say...and, I'm a writer. I should have been putting my words out there long ago. I'm just not talking to fill up empty silence anymore. What I do know is that what is surfacing in me is not for the weak. I may be single for a very long time. That's my most solemn thought, right now...that I'll be this great person that no one has the courage to love...I guess I'll be traveling...a lot. :) Yours, Mickie