1 of 65

by Vicki Brown

Dear Mother,

I need to write this letter for my own well-being. I'll never send it to you but if I don't get this stuff out before you die it will sit there like a rock in my heart.

Mom, you have always said how much you love me. I believe that you do love me. You love me as someone would love their fancy car or big house. I'm a possession for you and sharing me has always been impossible for you. My friends were never good enough for me. You critiqued them after they left. You once told me that I was not the type of person to have friends.

You have always been obsessed with me. With me and my happiness. The first thing you say when you call is "How are you? Are you happy?" The thing is you don't really want to know if I'm not. If I say anything less than I'm fine and I'm happy, you change the subject. You have no sympathy for me.

You have never been there for me. Any time I tried to talk to you about problems in my life you either turned the conversation to your problems or you put my problems down. When I told you the other day how emotional it was for me when I filled out the health questionaire before my mammogram. I cried when I checked the box that asked if I had ever been diagnosed with breast cancer. What comforting words did you have for the daughter you love so much? You said, "Don't dwell on it." Gee thanks mom that made me feel so much better.

I've listened to you sob and moan about your only daughter living so far away. You went so far as to say your life would have been so much better if I had lived nearby. Little did I know that you were punishing me. You said it was too hard to shop for birthday and Christmas gifts so you sent a check instead. And, you said you gave the same to my brother and his family. You emphasized that you treated your two children equally. What one got, the other got.

Not true. When I spent time living with my brother so I could help out, I stopped by your apartment unexpectedly. Do you remember that afternoon? I walked in and there were my brother and sister-in-law opening their Christmas gifts. Gifts mom not checks. Later my sister-in-law said I looked surprised and I told her why. She told my brother and he kept apologizing. It wasn't his fault. He stayed in Pittsburgh. I married a man whose job would take us from one coast to the other and many places in between. He had to go where IBM told him to and I had to go with him.

And all that time that my children, your grandchildren were getting checks, your son and his family

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Memoirs: What you want to tell mother, but cannot

by Vicki Brown

Memoirs: What you want to tell mother, but cannot

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