Dear Mum,
I'm sorry I missed your funeral. You know me — I would've spoken my truth authentically from my soul. I'd've spoken about good and bad, of pain and of love. The guests would've been furious at me. I'll visit your resting place in private one day.
So much of who I am, who I've become, who I continue to choose to be, is with deep thanks to you. You planted some of the most precious seeds in the garden of my child's soul. On good days, I love who I am. Many of the things I love about myself, and choose to pass onto my own children, are gifts I received from you, and have nurtured ever since.
I remember our long walks to Nana's. Long walks became a big habit in my life: meditative, calming and restorative — healing. And all those little blackbeetles we saved together, that taught me profound empathy for not just life itself, but especially for forms of life weaker than we are: the relatively powerless. Those little beings are insignificant to us, and yet we have the ability to completely change their little lives, to help them escape the otherwise inescapable. And we did, many times. All it took was a little heart and care. I've gone on to save all kinds of little creatures over the years. No one sees, no one cares, and yet my soul vibrates with a kind of universal love. In retrospect, cumulatively, it's one of the most rewarding habits I have. I've already begun to share this with my own children.
You also taught me love. I pass this also onto my own children like a gift from the gods. You taught me what love feels like, and how to love. Despite all the pain between us, that love has lasted a lifetime. You taught me how to channel love through touch, through voice (I still remember the song you used to hum to me), through the use of attention and empathy, honestly I'm pretty sure there's a sixth sense on which souls communicate — it's one of my primary modes of conenction with people — and you shared so much love with me through that sense, along the threads between our souls. I love my children the same way, and they feel it. You can see it. They radiate! It's like feeling the warmth of a nearby fire. I feel sorrow for people who have never received such a connection; maybe that's what drives me to share my own love with so much dedication?
A lot of my best traits, are all seeds I've watered that you lovingly planted in me.
I came to learn of another gift of yours recently. I have so many memories of us watching movies together; I remember lying on you before I got "my own" lounge; we'd be under that blue, tattered blanket, and I'd lie resting my head on your shoulder. So much warmth. I felt so safe and happy. It's rare that I can point to times in my childhood and say that I felt safety. I watched The Colour Purple again recently, thinking of you. It's a wonderful, impactful story that has so much to teach. I shared it with a special friend, and I'm now thinking there's a valuable lesson in there for her too, from which she may come to benefit. TV and movies are art, they tell stories, they teach about the human condition. I learned a lot of empathy for others from the movies you showed me. For years now, I've had a list of movies to show Nim and Aiden when they're older; a lot of it is cool stuff that I liked as a teen, but now I've come to remember that there's a whole other library of movies you shared with me that have valuable lessons to teach. I'm going to watch The Colour Purple with the kids one now too. And others. The gift of empathy cannot be understated, nor it's importance in raising a good little human, a good and kind soul.
You told me you wished you had a daughter. I was only young and it hurt hearing that. Sometimes it felt like I wasn't enough to make up for your abortion. You told me that you still loved me, but you wished I were a girl. Oh Mum, Oh the irony. You had a daughter the entire time. I have DID (what they used to call multiple personalities). I've always been female as well as male, or so we (meaning collective "I") thought. The closer I get to my True Self, my Soul, the more I discover that I am female at my core. It's something I'm still struggling with. I've known for a long time, but it's so hard to accept. I can no longer deny it, but parts of me continue to avoid it. For now.
All you had to do was stop being a needy child and be a mother to me, and you could've had your daughter.
You were a narcissist. You expected me, and from a very young age, to be your parent. I've needed a mother my whole life, but you stopped fulfilling that role when I became a teenager. I've needed you as an adult, but you were never capable of being the mother I needed, you were just too enveloped in your own needs and issues. Outour, the Demon, literally told you, and so did I, that Ali raped me, and you did nothing. Nothing. You didn't even sit me down to talk, or console me, you just did nothing but smoke and watch TV. And I'm pretty sure you knew that Ali wasn't my first child-rapist.
I have so many memories of years of deep love between us, and then you seemed to just disappear. The words that announced its beginning have never left me: "health issues". Tragically, it's not your fault that you developed "health issues". I know it's not the life you would've chosen if you could. But from a child's perspective, you just faded away. I watched that slow transition over the entirity of my teenage years and it's part of the reason I came so close to killing myself recently. How could I subject my own beautiful children to that? Better to just remove myself completely, than have them watch me fade away. The latter is more painful, because they'd still cling on to the hope and belief, to the faith, that their parent would come back and give them the love, care and support that they need. I could never put my children through what I went through. I've cut off my entire biological family to shield my children, and I was ready to cut myself off from them too, to do the same.
I've never stopped loving you, I just couldn't have you in my or my kids' lives with you behaving the way you do. But I always hoped. I thought that someday we'd be able to salvage things. You wouldn't even come to Nana's to see them when I brought the kids up there to show you. I was devastated when I found out you died, because I always had hope in some kind of future. I couldn't comprehend you being gone. Now I think I'm glad that you're dead, because you'll be free of this world, your prison mind and body, your undeserved life of pain — you had such an unfair life too, you didn't ask for all the suffering and difficulties that came your way. I'm happy you're gone because I know you'll be in a better place now, with a clear heart and soul, joyous in your new freedom. It makes me very happy to imagine you happy again. You deserve love and peace. I tried, but I couldn't give you all that you needed — (I needed you to give it to me) — but I trust that in the afterlife you are with your loved ones and that maybe you're even looking down on me sometimes, and my children. I trust that one day when I'm finally free of this hellscape realm we'll be able to reunite, and all of those grievances will be easily resolved and washed away, that the pain will bring us closer, and the love that we've always, always had for each other, will still be there, and will bond us again. This I trust.
I've kinda found my own path to the Divine or God or whatever name one chooses. I've been on a path towards it for twenty years now, and I feel like it's decided to reveal a little of itself to me. Funny thing: I remember you being Catholic and telling me about how you saw what-sounds-like Jesus appear to you that time. Tbh there's always been a few strange supernatural stuff around our family. I even had my own experience when young. Funny how I never really gave it much thought later in life...until recently.
Happy Birthday Mum. I hope you're finally free now. I hope you can still feel my love, despite the distance. Love creates an invisible string that surpases distance.
You deserved better than the hand you were dealt this lifetime. You did your best with what you had. You gave me so much despite having so little. I wouldn't have survived as long as I have without so many healthy seeds in my garden. And I'll pass them down. My children and my children's children will grow bright and strong thanks to you and your gifts.
With eternal gratitude, I wish you peace. There's no need to wish you love because you've always had it.
xxoo