Beloved Mother inscribed in stone where have you gone, nobody knows. The cotton lining in your casket cradles your bones keeping them still while the world above you shakes and rumbles. I wish I could hold you now. I still remember exactly the way you looked before they lowered you six feet down. Sleeping beauty with long blonde curls with a blue rose fabric dress on – If only the fairytales were true. My kiss would have brought you back to life because my love was true for you mommy. It still is. Deeply.
Every year on March 27th I reflect on what I can remember about your soul and how you made the decision to take your life from Earth and what could have been done to prevent this. Mommy, you must have been in so much pain.
I only allow myself one day a year to write a letter to you. If I did it more than that I would have a heart of sludge and everywhere I would go it would leave slime marks on the ground because that is where my heart is when I think of you – Tied to the lace of my muddy shoe, dragging a shadow around to remind me that I no longer have you. It is almost unbearable. But today. Just today. I write to you mommy.
I try to hear you, feel and see you in my dreams - but whenever you do arrive you disappear quickly. Men in white coats hold balloons and the music starts to play. Everyone in the hospital is bright and cheery. Confetti falls and the glitter disco ball spins. A handsome doctor with kind and gentle eyes takes my hand and leads me to the back of the hospital. Two silver doors slide apart and he looks to me with sincerity and says go ahead. I can feel my heart beat loudly. I can’t contain my glee. I run hard to get to you but it doesn’t matter he tricked me – you were not there. The room turns to gloom and the doctors in white lower their heads to the body that is lying on the table with no clothing on, just bones.
I hate this dream. It haunts me.
I’ve read everything possible on suicide, incest, poverty, rape, drugs and schizophrenia to understand your trauma and disease. I even read the book about motherless daughters for self-soothing, well I will be honest I got two chapters in and chucked that one to the curb. Some books have helped me understand about you and the prevention of your disease including understanding a bit more about your trauma but honestly mommy all these books just make me crazier.
My whole life all I ever thought was that if you were loved and cared for you would not have felt so alone and your purpose would have shined through. Your death makes me wonder mommy: How loveless were you?
I’ve re-read your suicide note so many times that I know it by heart. I’ve dissected every word, every line. I replay you writing it in my imagination. I look for the moment you hesitate. That moment is the only moment I fantasize about being a super hero. I would have walked right through the front door and saved you from following through. Did you see my face, my hands, or my eyes, could you hear my voice crying for you to not do it, I don’t think you did mommy because if you did I don’t think you could have done it.
As the story goes you said goodbye to everyone but me, if only I could turn back time. I only think about this once a year, but if I was there would you really have done it? The pink flamingo motel bed they found you on is burned into my memory – my heart rips a little deeper every time I see a pink flamingo.
I am in New York now mommy. I never thought I would live here. The dreams advertised in my soul told me to come here. I tried not to listen but I have an internal itch that never settles. I travel a lot. I never stay in the same place for more than a year. I’ve become an inspiration for many which I am grateful for because it gives me purpose. My heart is searching for home even though I know that home does not exist and that it is an illusion for me. Your suicide was pretty traumatic but living in foster care didn’t help either, but I am trying nonetheless.
You must have never had security or a home to call your own mommy – so you couldn’t teach me. I understand -yet I don’t. As many times as I have felt down and depressed I have never taken a blade to my wrists or a noose to my neck. You actually followed through with it. You are braver than you will ever know. I wish I could have showed you how amazing and brave you really were.
God this hurts, even still.
You should see your grandbabies, they are so beautiful and a lot like me. They are very curious. The day I had to tell Julian that mommy’s mommy was dead was the worse. He looked at me and his eyes became wet. His eyelashes are so long they stuck to his cheek. He asked me if I was going to die and leave him like you left me. It was then that the circle of life hurt the most. I explained to him that we all die and it is the moments we have together that counts. I know he can’t understand it right now so I promised to love him endlessly and then we had ice cream. That was all it took to ease his confusion and pain. How many ice cream cones were you denied dear mommy, way too many, way too many.
Mommy I want you to know that I have dedicated my life to teaching the things I have learned from your suicide and disease. You have inspired me beyond belief and you have hurt me the most but I know that your pain and suffering was unbearable and you had to leave because no pill or drug could relieve you forever. You must have thought that the suffering and pain would never end, you were right mommy it doesn’t. But moments of happiness and joy do come and when they do the pain is not so bad. You must have had very few moments of happiness and joy mommy, very few, very very few.
I am forever missing you,
I am forever learning from you,
I will live for as long as possible,
I will teach as long as I can with eternal compassion while seeking education and understanding,
I will love you endlessly forever and ever and when we meet again we may not know that we were mother and daughter but you will know that I love you because that never leaves the soul.
Till we meet again dear mommy,
Visit me soon in my dreams and stay for a while - if you can that is.