Dear Mom,

I know you hate when I write to you. You have always told me that if I have something I want to tell you, I need to say it outloud. I know I’m better at writing than talking though. I just always say the wrong things and this is something I want to get right.

I can only imagine how hard Mother’s Day is this year. I understand why you want to spend it alone. You are like me, or I suppose more accurately I am like you, in that you prefer to suffer  silently. 

Does the absence keep you up at night?

I think about her.

Well, them, both of them, often. 

How do you cope with your grief?

For your mother who passed after decades of keeping us warm.

For your daughter who is still alive but left and turned us both cold.

Do I remind you of her?

Either one of them?

Both?

Is that why you can’t look at me?

I understand, I really do.

Sometimes I cry when I look in a mirror for that same reason.

I think all I’m trying to say is that I am hurting and that I know you’re hurting too.

And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. 

I think all I’m trying to say is that I love you and I’m not going anywhere.

And I’m here, if you need me, if you want me.

I remember one time grandma and I had gone out to lunch and we sat in the car in the driveway afterwards.

She asked me if I was doing okay and I told her “yes of course” too quickly to be sincere and she said I sounded like you.

We talked for a long time and at the end she told me about how when you were younger, your teeth began to shift and your smile became crooked. She told me how she went to the dentist to see if there was anything they could do at the time and he told her no. She said you stopped smiling after that. And then she cried and I cried.

I think what I’m trying to say is thank you for getting me braces. Thank you for wanting me to be happier than you. Thank you for being a good mom because that is the epitome of a good mom. I know you did your best and I did my best and we are doing our best.

I think what I am trying to ask is will you hand it to me please? Gently.

The guilt you carry with you. 

Will you lift it off your shoulder?

Will you place it into the palm of my hands?

I will carry it for you. I will find a place to set it down. 

It is not yours to bear anymore. 

It never was.

I think what I am trying to say is that I miss grandma less when I’m with you.

That you remind me of her especially when you smile. 

That I love you enough for everyone who isn’t here anymore.

That I am still here and I’m not going anywhere.

Love,

Grace