Home > 30 Letters > Letter 1: A deceased person I wish I could talk to

Letter 1: A deceased person I wish I could talk to

August 1st, 2010

Dear Mom,

It’s been twenty-eight years since the last time I saw you.  At least ten since the last time I visited your grave.  Time and money never seem to allow for a trip.  I know that’s partly my fault.

I often wonder if you’re out there, watching over me.  If it’s you who makes sure that when I get myself in trouble, I come out mostly okay.  If you’re disappointed in me.

I know that if you still exist, you love me.  That’s the one thing everyone always made sure to assure me of.  Even your rotten sister. 

“The sun rose and set in you for her.” and “She gave your sister up for adoption because she didn’t want her to take away from what she could give you.” and “You were her everything.” chimed in my ears from the day you left, till I became estranged from the majority of our family.

I wish I could have known you.  I wish I could pick up the phone and call you.  I wish I could hop a plane or a bus and go visit you.

Mostly, I wish I knew your face.

I don’t even remember you, but I miss you.  I miss the relationship we could have had.  And I’m always wondering “What if…?”

What would life have been like, just me and you? Would you have gone back to my father? Would you have changed your mind about the adoption? Would we have gotten along? Would we have had fun together? Would you still be here, today, if the accident hadn’t killed you, or would some other tragedy have taken you away from me?

I used to feel guilty for having these thoughts, so I never asked any questions about you.  Like I was somehow betraying my adopted parents by having them.  But I think it’s to be expected.  And now, it doesn’t bother me.

I don’t think there are many people still alive who knew you well.  I mean, there’s K, but she’s crazier than I am, and a pathological liar, to boot.  So I’m not even sure if there’s anyone around to ask anymore.

I want you to know that I’m all right.  I manage to muddle through even the hardest times.  But most of all, I want you to know that I love you.  And I wish I hadn’t lost you.

I really wish I hadn’t lost you.

Thinking of you,

  1. August 2nd, 2010 at 00:09 | #1

    (((hug))) I know it’s not really much compared to losing your mother before you really had the chance to be as close as you wanted, but it’s a struggle. It’s hard to be in a blended family, with step-parents or adoptive/foster parents and be the kid. You feel bad for wanting to love more than one set of parents and wanting a relationship with them. Especially if any of them has a jealous streak. I know it’s gotta be rough to give everything you have to the child you adore and see them still wanting more, too.

    It took me a long time to realize it was okay to love all of my parents and the people who took care of me. I hope you get situated so you can go and visit your mother at her grave, as often as you need to. This was a really touching letter. Thank you for sharing such an intimate part of yourself.

  2. August 2nd, 2010 at 08:37 | #2

    @Sarahbear 🙂 Thank you for the hug.

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