I’m not OK with the fact that you left us. Every day I try to make sense of it all. You just upped and left. No notice, no hints; nothing. You never packed. You never made sure we were going to be alright. For some reason, it only makes sense now why you pressured me to study further, to learn independence. You knew all along you were leaving forever. Do you ever think of us? They say parents have a feeling deep down when their kids are not OK. I haven’t been ‘OK’ for two years, one month and three days now, but clearly what I’m feeling inside hasn’t reached you because you haven’t come home yet.
I’m not OK because you left everything on my shoulders. I remember the day you left like it was yesterday. When they told me, I asked if you said anything or left anything for me, but they said no, you knew you had groomed me for that day. I couldn’t shed a tear because my siblings were looking at me for answers. I told them you were gone, but I couldn’t tell them when you were coming back or why you left.
Chances are I’m finally going to have to deal with three kids who blame themselves for something none of us know. I’ve always been there for you. I never knew how not having you around would feel like until you left. I still feel it. I have a lot of enemies, but none of them deserve to ever feel the pain I felt at you deserting us.
You’ve always told me what to do with my life; what path to take. Today I’m at a crossroads.
Years are passing by and I can’t do anything because I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, you were the only person that cared enough to say “no, that’s wrong” or “yes, that’s how you do it.” I lost myself the day you left. You took me with you. It was your fight, but you still took me with you. You left an empty newly born baby to find its own way in this big world. That baby is growing up but still hasn’t found its purpose in life. If you could see me now, would you recognise me? Would I still be the child you point at in pride and say “that’s my child?”
I don’t like what I see in the mirror.
I’m writing you this letter because I need you to show me a sign, everything else I’ll fugue out by myself. You’re probably wondering what happened to dad, he’s not the same person. He can’t function properly when he’s sober. He regrets every bad thing he ever did to you. He says the only reason he drinks a lot, is because he doesn’t want to feel the loss of your presence at night. At least he has that. I feel nothing, I’m numb and I don’t trust myself. I keep pushing the people that care about me away because I know nothing lasts forever. You left. What would stop them from leaving as well?
Dear mom, I need you to let me go. I need to forget about you and continue my life without you. I need to wake up one day and not remember how long you’ve been gone. I need to visit my friends and not feel anger at God for depriving me of you because they’ll still have their mothers and I won’t. I need you to let my brother know you’re with me.
I need you to tell dad that he’s the only parent we have and that he has to step up. I’ve been trying, but all that I’m doing is moving one step forward and taking two steps back. Mom we need you, I’ve accepted that you’re not coming back, but I won’t stop trying to find you. Every chance I get, I go to your grave and ask where to from here and I get no answers, all I feel is the whisper of your voice saying, “I know exactly what you should do.”
Dear mom if you can hear me now, I want you to know I’m not ok. I won’t be until you tell me why, you owe me that much. For now, I’m going to take each day as it comes, I’ll wait until you’re ready. I still love you.
Tell us: What do you think the mother would say if she could talk to her child?