A Letter to My Dead Mother

Dear Mom…

I wish I hadn’t been such an asshole when I was younger.

I wish I had known how precious our time was and realized how lucky I was to have you as a Mom so much sooner than I did.

I’m so sorry that I screamed ‘I hate you’ at you when I was 10 years old. And 12 years old. And 15 years old. And probably fifty-dozen other times. I never really hated you.

I’m sorry I used to sit outside your bedroom door after a fight, knocking and crying incessantly and not giving you the space that you needed. Coincidentally, I did the same thing to “nameless ex-husband” for years — it drove him nuts. It weirdly took you dying and my getting divorced soon after your death to finally learn how to calm myself down and self-soothe.

I’m sorry that I disappointed you so many times and that it took me nearly 30 years to grow the fuck up. I’m sorry I failed out of college and just vanished, leaving you to clean out my dorm room and wonder where I was and if I was okay.

I’m sorry I tried to kill myself after your Mom died, inevitably making what I can only now understand to be the most difficult time in your life so much more difficult.

I’m sorry that I was always horrible with money and needed you to bail me out financially over and over and over. And over. And…