Letter to My Mother, #1

Dear Mom,

While there are days that you are not constantly on my mind, I can assure you that I always, always miss you. I live in Germany, which I know you know, but I wish I could still access the part of you who could be happy for me. The part of you who wants me to pursue my dreams. The part of you who is proud to have raised a woman independent and strong enough to move to a foreign country, learn the language and build a life for herself. Those wishes don't feel so divorced from the realm of possibilities, but I must cop to having much more fantastical desires.
I wish you could come visit me and experience firsthand the life I've built for myself. I wish you could meet and remember my partner as the wonderful man he is. And I wish you could walk me down the aisle and give me away at our wedding. I wish I could call you up, when I'm feeling especially afraid, alone, and in need of counsel. I wish I could ask for your motherly wisdom, drawn from a lifetime of surviving your own shit. I wish I could make you laugh, see you smile and tell you stories.
I wish you could eat a meal and enjoy a beverage, instead of being fed liquid calories through a tube. I wish you could express yourself, have a simple conversation, tell your own stories. I wish you were strong enough to travel and gather new ones. I wish you were being accompanied into old age by grace, instead of cruelty.
When I was younger, I really thought you were perfect. You were mythology come to life. One of the hardest parts of growing up was knocking you down from your pedestal and recognizing that you were mortal, complete with faults. It was gut-wrenching, but I had to admit that you had made mistakes. Regardless, there was so much that happened to you that you didn't deserve and, for all those things, I am so sorry.
I am sorry for what happened to you when you were younger, that you felt unsafe and unprotected. I am sorry you never learned how to save yourself. I'm sorry you never learned how to ask for the things you needed and accepted people not providing as proof that you didn't deserve it. I am sorry that your husband wasn't your partner. I'm sorry that you didn't have friends and became more and more isolated the worse your hearing became. I'm sorry I didn't help you more when you were exhausted from doing everything on your own. I'm sorry you gave so much that there was nothing left for you. I am sorry that you have to head into a dark and disorienting land alone and that there are no lines of communication in or out.
For all these things I am sorry and wish there was something I could do to help, but that doesn't erase my anger and resentment.

I can't get into that now, but those feelings are there and just as real as everything else. I can give thanks for everything you sacrificed for me and my brother. I hope some part of you knows that your love turned into the best parts of us.

I love you and will never not miss you.
Your daughter,
Sarah