Dear Mom, Hi...

Dear Mom,

Hi. It's been a long time since we last spoke, but only a year since your death by morphine overdose. I won't say it was intentional, because I don't really believe suicide is. Let's just say that I miss you and leave the myths and controversies surrounding the idea of "choice" for the experts to dissect and decide.

First off, I'm sorry I didn't respond to your letters, cards, postcards and packages with gifts for me and Chloe. Instead of seeing them as a loving gesture, I interpreted them as a manipulation an extension of some kind of pattern of abuse, control, valuing and de-valuing. I was scared.

In fact, the last letter you sent, the one where you said your heart was broken and you wouldn't be sending letters or packages anymore -- that one I cried. There's a little tear stain on it still where the ink-jet printer ink pic of the candles were. I knew you meant it, and still I didn't write or call.

I was going to wait you out.

I wanted you to know that I was serious -- that I was in charge of my life, not you. That your methods of intimidation, guilt-tripping and flat-out bribery hadn't worked.

But they had. I was just waiting so you wouldn't think that. I guess I just wanted to save my pride. I'm sorry for that.

In fact, I'm sorry for so much more -- for all the things I never did. For all the empty promises and selfish actions. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I let you down.

I was scared that you would judge me. You see, Chloe has brain damage. And, it was caused by her new-born jaundice. It wasn't anything we knew about, but it could have been prevented if we did. I thought you would say "Well, you really f-ed up.", just like you did when Keith died of a heroin overdose. I thought you would smear it in my face. I couldn't stand the thought -- and I wanted to get her well first.

And there were other reasons. Each time I thought about contacting you, I imagined you hurting me, or rejecting me, or coming up with some terse response to break my heart or try to destroy me. I kept thinking "I HATE her so much!!".

2 weeks before you died I thought, "No, I LOVE her."

I went to Tim and said, "It's MY TRUTH that I need to talk with her".

And he agreed if it was that important that I should contact you.

Did I mention that I was pregnant?

Yep, I had another one!! She's a doll -- and no brain damage. We got her jaundice treated properly and she's doing so well. I've been giving her lots of hugs and love since you didn't get much from Grandma.

I just want you to know that I love you, Mom. It wasn't for lack of love that I didn't write to you - it was lack of skill. That and everyone advising me not to.

I've learned to follow my own truth now, though, at least hopefully I have.

So, now you don't just have a birthday, you've got a deathday to celebrate and yours is coming up this weekend. I've been thinking about joining you -- but the girls would miss me too much. I know you'd be upset if I left them. You stuck around for me and Rebecca, and that's what I'll do, too.

Thanks for listening. I keep thinking about Coos Bay and driving down to the bay and eating McDonalds together looking at the water. I wish we'd never moved. I wish you'd never gotten married again -- that it could have just been us all those years. Maybe you wished that, too. :)

Anyway, I love you, Mom. Happy Deathday!! Tell Gamma and Grandpa "Hi" and that I love them, too. Please come visit in ghost-form if you can this weekend. I've been pretty sad, sleeping a lot, and it would definitely cheer me up.

Love and kisses!!
~Peaches