(This letter was written by someone who had a difficult childhood with alcoholic parents who were alternately emotionally neglectful and actively abusive. I believe it is one of the most poignant tributes I have ever read, bar none. I am grateful to have been given permission to present it, in its entirety, as today's blog post....)
"Dear Mother:
Today is Mother's Day. You have been dead now for over ten years. Why is it that every time Mother's Day comes around, I feel guilty and I feel ashamed? I have often joked with my husband (who you disapproved of since you met him, by the way!) that my real name should have been Hi-I'm-Joe-And-It's-My-Fault! No kidding. I can remember you reminding me of all the things wrong with me that I couldn't change. I can remember you screaming at me for all the things you thought I did on purpose to mess with you. I can also remember you icing me out for all the things you expected of me, but that I didn't deliver on. Sometimes I wonder if you mistook having a child for having a pet you believed you could transform into a blue ribbon winner under your instruction.
I don't know why you were so obsessed with making sure I didn't do anything to shame or upset you. How ironic! You who made me go every couple of days to that party store on the next block and pick you up your Cutty. I don't even know why that store owner let me buy that poison, let alone carry it home by myself. He so should have gone to jail for that! But of course he didn't and I cringed everytime I heard you yell out "Joey! Time to run to the store for me! My wallet's in my purse!" Why wasn't anyone else home when you did that? It wasn't like it was just you and me living there my entire childhood.
I know we had good times too. As sad as this is to say, drunks can be so hilarious before the alcoholic buzz takes them over to the dark side. You did make me laugh a lot, yet it was always at someone else's expense. I didn't realize this at the time, but I was grateful you weren't targeting me in those moments. Remember "Jake the Magnificant?" ROFLMAO! I still laugh at the thought of that guy! If he knew what you would say about him behind his back, I think he would laugh with you because he STILL adored you so much! Wow whatever happened to Jake I wonder? Well, if he's still at it now with his "I am the greatest!" b.s., then I guess he's as happy as he ever was.
I wish you had been the greatest mom to me and my sister, by the way. I guess you just couldn't do it being married to dad besides having us kids. I don't remember you ever having any girlfriends you could talk to, or who came over to visit, or who you went out to see. You put yourself last in the lineup of who and what mattered most in your life, with the exception of us kids. I remember feeling so angry about how what the neighbors thought mattered to you and dad more than what Suzy or I thought. And to think now how bizarre that was because the neighbors clearly avoided us in the first place! Ours was the worst house on the block! How come you two didn't even notice that? The neighborhood kids would often say things to me whenever they saw me. "Hey Blow-ee! Doesn't your father own a lawnmower, or is he waiting to buy a goat to cut your grass?" "Oh look, there's Blow-ee! His whole family are losers just like he is!" I have to stop. As I am thinking about all of that, I find myself getting upset again just like I used to. I can't do that to me anymore. I just can't.
I have to, instead, look at what you gave up and what you sacrificed in order to create a family for yourself against all odds. I know your own family as you were growing up was no bowl of cherries. I never even heard the word "murder" until Aunt Pat told me that your dad was murdered by one of his most trusted employees at the store, leaving your mother with you just five years old at the time. Aunt Pat was only a kid herself, but she was the one suddenly in charge of your care because of your mother's nervous breakdown. Then with your dad being alcoholic, and your mother being bipolar anyway before his murder, you and Aunt Pat really didn't have much in the way of proper adult support and supervision. I understand that. It's how Suzy and I were raised also. You did what you knew. And what you didn't know, you didn't even think about.
In spite of all, I am grateful to be here. I can honor you for the life you gave me, instead of what would have been easier for you to do when you got pregnant with me. I can be thankful for the fact that my childhood didn't kill me and that I survived it also. I didn't experience any catastrophic accidents or incidents that left me with permanent physical scars or disabilities. My mind works well enough. I am not addicted to alcohol or drugs. I myself am a good enough husband, father, and friend.
In spite of all, you taught me to do something different with my own life, which in essence saved my life and saved me from repeating the same old dysfunction you knew and grew up with going back however many generations.
For this and all the other reasons I haven't mentioned in this letter, happy Heavenly Mother's Day mom. You were a wounded bird just like I was growing up, except you didn't know what to do to heal and change for the better. Now, hopefully, you found your peace. I know I am still working on mine. Love you forever. JD"