Going through an old box my mother kept labeled “J’s Stuff.” I thought it was just my baby book and letters from camp..shit like that. But apparently she kept everything. Like old birthday cards and report cards, and hate mail.
When my mother and I would argue, like really argue, we’d stop speaking for awhile. Sometimes only a few hours, sometimes days, and since we weren’t speaking, we’d write letters or notes back and forth. Basically how I disappointed her in some kind of way and my smart ass remarks in response back.
I’m only now realizing what a horrible daughter I was. Reading some of those notes and remarks that I made I am mortified that she ever had to read those. I can’t imagine how awful it made her feel, I can’t imagine the heartbreak I induced with my words. I am fully in tears right now and I can’t imagine that I made her cry with the things I said.
And she kept these. Why?
We always had a great relationship. I had…still have… friends who are jealous of how fucking fantastic our relationship was.
I don’t even remember writing these awful hateful things. I obviously would never say them to her face, and she always told me when I was angry to write things down, but I can honestly say that I never thought I was capable of giving anything like that to her. To do something that hurt her on purpose.
I was 16 at the time this letter was written and I remember ages 16-17 1/2 were my worst years. I ran away and came back. I was bitchy all the time. Disrespectful even.
I remember, as an adult, apologizing to her for this timeframe of stupidity and stubbornness. She accepted my apology and we cried and we laughed thinking back at all the bullshit, and I was genuinely happy that we could look back on it. That it was in the past and could stay in the past.
I am disappointed in myself.
And even though I’ve already apologized once for a general time period, I can never apologize for this letter I found, because she’s not around to hear it. 12 years, 10 months and 3 weeks ago was the hardest day of my life.
I know in my heart of hearts that she loved me. All of me. For all time. And that she accepted my apology wholeheartedly as well.
But there is no way I can forgive myself.
I am a horrible daughter.