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 were getting very nice gifts. Remember the silver Revere bowl you promised me for my 25th anniversary? You don't. That's probably because I never got one. My brother and his wife got one. And every time I was there and we were sitting at the table you would point that bowl out to me. Did that make you feel good?
You never even tried to understand or even acknowledge that being separated from my family was hard on me too. You had your son and grandsons for every holiday. My husband and our kids were alone. You did come one Christmas and did nothing but complain the whole time and then called me and complained all over again.
We drove 800 miles to spend Thanksgiving with you two years in a row. Once we hit ice on a bridge and lost control of the car. We spun around and ended up in the median. The other time, the car broke down and we sat in a freezing cold car until help arrived. And what did you do? You got sick and missed Thanksgiving. I'm sure you expected us, or at least me, to stay home with you. After two years of that, my husband said not again.
We drove another time for Christmas. I had gotten three hours of sleep on Christmas Eve and then I worked an eight hour shift. When I got home, we all piled in the car for the 13 hour drive to Pittsburgh. We spent a week. The kids entire Christmas vacation. And did you ever say thank you? No. We had just walked in the door after the long trip home, when the phone rang. It was you with your litany of complaints. I had time for a three hour nap before I had to get ready to go to work and you took up 30 minutes of that time, yelling at me.
I don't want to know the total amount of time I've spent listening to you go on and on about your health problems. You know the ones that don't exist. Once you had your doctor call me and explain what tests you had had and the results. I don't remember the tests but I remember vividly that they were all negative. The doctor told me he had never seen a patient disappointed that there was nothing wrong with them.
You are now 88 years-old and far healthier than I am. You have never had anything. You've never had surgery. You have no chronic conditions. I have CFS and all that goes along with that. I have arthritis in my neck, hips, knees, back, and hands. My lower spine is, to quote my doctor, "a mess" and so I have constant pain. And last November I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I had a mastectomy followed immediately by reconstructive surgery. It's a year later and I am still recovering. Oh and I had a blood clot 14 days post-op and took coumadin for six months. Do you have any idea what it's like to live knowing you have a clot in your left thigh that could break off and kill you?
You never asked and I knew better than to complain to you. All you wanted to know was when I would be able to come visit you. You. That's the central consideration in your life. Poor daddy, he spent 62 years trying to make you happy. He finally did when he passed away. That dear sweet loving man had Alzheimer's and you expected him to be at your beck and call as he always had been. You would not take care of him. He wasn't eating. He wasn't taking his medication. He was still trying to make you happy.
I think I've said enough. I could write volumes of all the mean selfish things you've done and said. One more that I can not leave out. A week after my daughter's wedding, your only granddaughter, you called and told me everything that "they" did wrong. I tried several times to point out that the "they" to whom you were referring was me and Nora. One of your complaints was that no fuss was made of you. Why would you expect a fuss over you? You said because you were the great-grandmother. I pointed out that you are Eleanore's great grandmother but she had four other great-grandmothers there. And, why would that make you special? You said you were the brides grandmother. Yes, you are but her other grandmother was there too.
That day was all about Nora. It was her day. Not yours, not mine, Nora's. But it's always about you isn't it? I work hard every day to be as unlike you as possible. You are a negative role-model. You are everything I don't want to be. Thank God I am more like daddy.
I'm sorry for you mom. But not for the reasons you want me to be. No, I'm sorry for the what you could have had and were too self-centered to see what a wonderful life you had.
I honor you because God says I have to. But, nowhere does he say I have to like you. Or even love you. Speaking at daddy's memorial service was hard but finding the words was easy. What will I say about you? I have no idea. Maybe we don't have to have one.
I wish we could have been closer. I wish I had had me for a mother.
Your daughter