This blog piece is an open letter to my mom who passed away one year ago today on May 20, 2019. I’m blogging this to get out my feelings and bring myself a little more closure. I didn’t go too deep in this like I could have because right now, it’s important for me to remember the light and the good while I think of her in remembrance on this day.
I wish you could see me now. I’ve accomplished a lot. I’m a college student! I’m finally pursuing my dream to become a Registered Nurse. I have a long way to go yet. Still, at least I’m on the right path. You know how much this means to me. After all, you inspired me and peaked my interest in medical ever since I was a small child. Thank you so much for that. I’m going to make you very proud. You should see your granddaughter. Gosh, has she grown. She’s so beautiful and intelligent. She’s 5-years-old and so full of life… she has definitely surpassed mine and her dad’s wildest dreams.
I’ve been thinking a lot about our past. It’s unsettling how we didn’t have much of a relationship. I’m not sure how it’s been an entire year already since you left us. My heart is still very much healing. I hate recalling the memories of this day last year… I’ll never forget seeing you. It literally brought me to my knees. I need to get out some honesty here… I’m a 26-year-old adult who battles depression, anxiety, ptsd and trauma because of what I went through and was exposed to. However, I just want you to know that I candidly forgive you. Mom, it took me 20 years to, at long last, actually meet you when you finally became sober during my pregnancy. It’s a highlight in my life. An experience I’ll never forget. I finally had a Mom and it was a damn miracle. You were more than a survivor of your own excruciating past – you were so loved. You were family. Your life had purpose and deep reason to live, to heal and to keep going.
And then it all fell apart. I tried so hard to save you for 25 years. I wasted a quarter of a century to save you, Mom. And when you refused to get help, I fell apart too for the last freaking time. And then I left so I could give the family that I created, one more chance to live life right and do better. I left to protect my very own daughter from the damage that was to come with the relapse. And then just a year ago, on this very day, you left. Forever. Something inside me left forever that day too – Hope. Hope for a future with you. Hope that you would get serious and get sober for the rest of your life. Hope that my daughter and all of your other grand-kids would be lucky to have you in their lives. But the truth was, you made yourself so chronically ill that it was too late a long time ago.
I realize that now. I just wasn’t ready to say good-bye. Moving forward though – I have reflected so much on everything this past year. Especially losing you. I’m thankful you are no longer suffering in unbearable pain anymore. I’m thankful for all of the goodness that you brought. I’m thankful for the times we laughed until we cried. Those are the days that I really miss. I’m thankful you were there for me when my daughter was born when she was battling Kawasaki’s Disease. I’m thankful she had her Nana. I’m thankful that after 20 very painful and broken hearted years, I finally got to meet the real you. I’m thankful for everything that I’ve learned from you. I have a new hope for the future now. I hope to never do any irreversible damage while I’m here on this Earth. I only want growth, prosperity and peace. I choose to truly and deeply forgive you; wholeheartedly and open mindedly to reveal the light that came out of this mess.
I wish you could have loved yourself that way that I loved you and still do love you. You’d still be here today if you did. I hope the after life brought you the peace that your tired soul needed. I know you’re watching over us. Rest easy, Mom. I will miss you until my last breath.
Your Recurring Estranged Daughter,