Dear Mom,

You forwarded me an email today that said we should treasure the people in our life who matter and let go of those who don’t. I understood the intention behind it and what you were trying to say. But I deleted it without sending it back to you.

I’m sure you think it was just because I hate email forwards. You’d be wrong. Oh, I do hate them, but generally I forward the sappy ones to the people I care about. Not this time.

I deleted it because I am certain that you have no idea who I am. I deleted it because you fail to see the things that are important to me and respond to them. I deleted it because of the way you have treated my husband for these last 15 years. No one says you have to love him or even like him, but treating him with respect seems like something you could do for me.

I know you try, sometimes. Maybe I’m a disappointment, not the daughter you hoped you’d have. Maybe you think this dream of mine is foolish and should be set aside. To be honest, I have no idea why you can’t encourage my success. I think you know, or I hope you do, that I’ve always dreamed of being a writer. Not just a reporter or even published in magazines, but a real honest to God fiction writer.

In July, I sent you the notice about the first contest I won. The prize money was insignificant, but the fact that it included publication in a real book. Yes, I’ve been published in magazines and newspapers. My work is all over the internet. That wasn’t the point, but you didn’t seem to get it.

To some, selling my first short story may seem like no big deal. Maybe you just knew I could do it and that’s why you never said congratulations. Not even a tiny email asking to read it. My friends knew. Many of them begged me to send it to them to read. Another made me promise not to send him a copy of the book as he wanted to buy it. You didn’t even respond to the email I sent telling you about it.

I buried that pain. Maybe you were busy with something else and just missed the excitement in my note. Maybe when the book is in your hands, you’ll feel differently. Maybe I’m spoiled, by a mother-in-law who faithfully reads everything I write.  Did you know she keeps a scrap book of my writing, Mom?  Do you?

But then I dared to hope again. I won another short story contest, Mom. Well, okay, technically I got third place.  Sure, there were only 500 entries, but Mom, I won $200 for my short story!

I have never doubted my ability to write nonfiction, but this was a challenge for me, letting something of myself out that I had never believed in. I thought you’d be happy for me. You never responded.

That’s why I deleted your email this morning. I was hurt and angry that you could forward this tripe about not wanting to lose people in your life, but couldn’t take the time to send me a note of congratulations. Were you out of minutes? Your cell phone broken?  Is that why you didn’t call?

There were people in my life I should have sent that forward on to, let them know how much they mean to me. But today, I was hurting because my mother didn’t care enough to say, “I’m proud of you.”

You were the one I wanted to hear from yesterday and the best I got was another forward cluttering up my inbox. My friend Laurie called me from California to congratulate me.  She called before I even finished reading the announcement that I had won. Would it be asking too much for my mother to do the same?

Emily, who I’ve known for three years, called. Joe, you remember Joe, right? My friend from college that I haven’t seen in 20 years, Joe, sent me an email card. Mark, another friend from college, sent a cute little congratulations note.  My father-in-law sent a request to read the winning entry. My boss, Chanda, noticed an error on the page announcing the winners. My friends, my in-laws and my employer all managed to take time to be happy for my success. Were you, Mom?

I wish I knew.

I thought as I began this that I was bitter, but I’ve discovered that you simply don’t understand who I am. I’m far away and haven’t lived at home in more than 20 years. My little successes may not seem so important to you these days, but your approval still matters to me, Mom.  I needed you to know that. After forty years, you’re still my mom and what you think matters to me.

There are plenty of heartaches on both sides. Regrets and things we wish we’d said or done differently over the last decades. I don’t want this to be another one to chalk up to hurt feelings and wistful thinking. I can correct this now and I am.

Please be happy for me, Mom. I’m happy with my life and pursuing my dreams. I hope you can be happy with me too.

I may never be world famous or have the perfect children and live in a house with a white picket fence. That was never my dream and is not who I am.

I am me. I love my husband, my children and my cat. I write. It gives meaning to my soul and purpose to my life. When things are going well, it also pays the bills quite handsomely.  I guess I shouldn’t admit that. I use money as an excuse often enough not to come to see you, but the truth is, Mom, that I don’t come because of the way that you treat us. Thor and I are package deal. We love each other very much. When you treat him badly, you hurt me.

Do you remember the last time we came up for a holiday? Sure, we weren’t married yet, but we had lived together for years. You made Thor sleep on the couch. You threw a fit that we had to leave instead of shopping with you on Black Friday, even though we had told you Thor had to work the next day. You said you didn’t know why I had driven 10 hours just to spend one day with you. I hope by now you’ve figured that one out. I made the drive because I love you Mom.

I’m setting this all aside right now, Mom, and I hope you can do the same. We are old enough to know that life can change in an instance. I don’t want it to change with regrets between us.

This Mothers’ Day, I’m going to try to be there. I want to see you and Grandma and my nephew. I won’t be able to stay long as the problem of being self-employed is that there is really no vacation time. But I want you to know that I still feel the way I did all those years ago, when with childlike innocence I wrote you a poem saying you were the “Best Mom Ever.” You made mistakes, but all moms and daughters do. You loved me and that meant everything.

I love you too.

Cindy

~~~

Cindy Gunnin is a freelance writer and mini-storage manager in Carterville, Illinois. When she is not writing, she can be found in the office making collection calls or planning advertising campaigns. She is a staff writer for Heartland Women, a bi-weekly newspaper focused on issues about women for women and written by women. She is a member of the Southern Illinois Writers Guild and happily counts herself as one of the “founding members” of the Accentuate Writers Forum. She intends to get around to making her author’s website eventually and in the meantime, more of her work can be found here.

Dearest Mom,

I am sorry I had been such a terrible daughter all these years. You have never minded spending all your hard-earned money on me, but I have not been grateful, only resentful that you buy me expensive, beautiful clothes to wear, always thinking that because I did not inherit your beauty, you had been mocking me, and trying to cover up my ugliness and make me look more worthy of you. But that had never been the case. I know that now. You love me. You simply love me with all your might. You never saw me as ugly: you, the beautiful woman who has a daughter with plain looks never saw that I am not as good as you are. You always saw me as a princess. You saw my heart and knew that deep down I am good and beauty shines through.

You have had so many disappointments in life, and I had been the only truly good thing you were sure about: that I am your daughter, for you to hold, love and pamper, without worries of my betraying you, as so many had done. I am sorry I never realized any of it.

All these stupid years, I thought beauty is the one thing that I never had, but that you have insisted on me. But that is not so. I know that now. You are the one who sees beauty in me even when others do not. Even when I did not. I now know of disappointments too, as you have. I now know of heartbreaks too, as you have. I now know that I have tried to find love in all the wrong places. I could not find someone to love me unless I loved myself first. You are the one who loves me, unconditionally. You taught me to love myself. And now, perhaps, I can learn to love.

Please let me start with you. Let me protect you, let me lavish my love on you, let me make you happy, make you laugh, and make you know that finally, even if late, I do love you, and cherish what you have done for me. That I have noticed every single thing that you have done for me. That I know the pain I have caused you. That I regret hurting you as I have, deeply and irrevocably. I am sorry. Please give me a chance to make it up to you. Let me start this Mother’s Day. Perhaps I will not have the courage to show you this letter, but please let me start. Please live healthy and strong for years and years to come, so that I can compensate for my mistakes, and start anew. May we share many happy years ahead.

Your daughter, always,
M

Dear Mom,

Mother’s Day is coming up soon and it got me thinking about our relationship over the years. There are so many things we say and don’t say to each other in almost every conversation we have. And we talk everyday so it is weird that there are things we don’t say to each other. We have always had an amazing relationship even when we were at odds when I was a teenager wanting to be a grown up. You always had my best interests at heart. Maybe it is because I am a mother now that I can completely see where you were coming from on those occasions that I heartily disagreed with your judgment. I’m sure my kids are going to disagree with my judgments too already they are starting and they aren’t teenagers yet.

Why is it that there are things we don’t say to each other? Is it because it makes us sound sappy? Is it because we are scared? I know that every day when we talk to each other that we say “I love you” but what else is behind those words?

Normally around Mother’s Day I would seek out a card bearing all the things I wished I could form into words to give you on the day that we honor mothers and when I gave it to you, you would understand and get teary eyed. It kind of became a challenge to find these cards. What would make mom know I cared? Could I find a writer that could show you just how much I didn’t say every day of the year not just on Mother’s Day? Or do you already know about the unspoken things that are wrapped up in the words “I love you”?

I think maybe you do know but it is like a mother secret, something that is only shared among other mothers when their kids look at them and say “I love you”. I know that when my kids say it that behind it there is more than love. There is need, hope, fear, worry, understanding, sympathy and thankfulness.

So mom if you don’t know already:

I love you.

I need you.

I worry about you.

I fear that I will lose you.

I understand what growing up means because of you.

I’m sorry for ever causing you pain or hurt.

I’m a so grateful and thankful that you are my mom. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

And have I mentioned I love you?

Love,
Linda

Hi Mama,

It’s strange that I’ve never written to you before because I think about you all the time.  When you passed away on that dreadful day over fifteen years ago, I thought I would never get over it.  I never did.

I sat with you as you lie in the hospital bed, gently moving the wisps of hair off your forehead.  I knew what was ahead and I dreaded the moment that you would leave me.   I knew you were ready to meet Jesus, just like you always wanted.

I hope heaven is everything you ever dreamed of.  I hope you are with Daddy and all the family and friends you loved so much in your life.  If ever a person deserved to be in heaven, it is you, Mama.  You sacrificed everything for your five children and your husband.  You gave us everything you had to give even when we didn’t seem to appreciate it.

I loved you so much and the regrets I have for not having shown you are deep within my heart now.  I hope this letter reaches you in some way, maybe just from the thoughts it sends through the universe.  Maybe you can catch a few of my words in your hand and hold them to your heart like you used to hold my hand.

Can you see me now?  Do you look over the grandchildren who have missed the wonderful years you could have given them?  I tell them about you and Dad and about the times we laughed and cried.

I thank God every day for giving me to you.  I couldn’t have asked for a more loving mother and friend.  I wish I could be half the mother to my children that you were to me.  You taught me about love, sacrifice, and an enduring spirit.  Thank–you for everything Mama.  Please be happy, at peace, and full of joy through all eternity.  I hope to hug you again someday, if I’m worthy.

Love,
Karen

~~~

To My Husband’s Mother:

The night before Kevin left to travel to see you, he finally confided in me the real reason he had been so upset lately. He told me that you had proclaimed that I was never again invited to step foot into your home. Apparently, this was in response to the email I had sent to you, asking that you give us some space for a while and not visit during Kevin’s remaining chemo rounds.

I know that you had good intentions and just wanted to be by your son’s side while he endured his cancer treatment, and I fully supported that. But then, the last time you visited, Kevin informed me that you had spent a solid hour screaming at him about our parenting choices WHILE he was receiving his chemo in his hospital room!

Given his weakened state, this sort of conflict was simply not appropriate. My husband and I both agreed that it would be best for you not to visit again while he was receiving chemo.

When Kevin returned from his trip to see you, he told me that you had finally admitted that it was not just that email that caused you to banish me from your family and home. In fact, he confirmed a belief that I have had since before Kevin and I married: You do not like or approve of me.

For years now, I would point out to Kevin specific ways I felt that you had slighted me, but he seemed unable to believe that his parents would react that way to the woman he loved most in the world.

Sensing that I was not your idea of the “perfect daughter-in-law”, I would try even harder to reach out to you, including you in holidays and urging Kevin to call and check in with you often. Then when we were preparing to adopt Jade, I tried to be fair and include you in as many of the plans as possible. When we brought her home, I updated the blog often, knowing that you must cherish photos of your only grandchild.

I made so many efforts to involve you in her life. But, sadly, those efforts were often met only with resistance. I feel that you never made any effort to get to know Jade or me at all. In fact, much of the time, I have felt that you treat me as a secretary. Looking back, though, I can honestly say that I made every effort to be a good daughter-in-law to you.

Even more importantly, I believe that I have been a devoted wife to your son. He has a home of his own, stability, and a child to love because of me. He has a woman who loves and cherishes him – a wife who has stood beside him and cared for him throughout his treatment for a deadly cancer, even in the face of her own illness and being a new mother.

Yet, despite all of these things, I feel that you have chosen to focus on the little ways you have not approved of me. Yes, I was very upset when you arrived an hour late to our wedding rehearsal dinner. We were working on a very specific time frame, and all of the other guests arrived on time. I was quite embarrassed to have to continue to make excuses as to why we couldn’t begin the dinner. I felt hurt that this special occasion was not important enough for you to arrive on time.

No, of course I did not want a Catholic priest to preside over my wedding. Neither Kevin nor I are Catholic or even religious, so we did not feel that it was the appropriate choice for our wedding. But you had insisted that it must be that way because it was what YOU wanted.

And, for the record, when I was told just minutes before MY wedding that a Catholic priest would be giving a blessing during the ceremony, I responded with grace, still trying to gain your approval.

On goes the list of petty reasons why you have stated that you don’t like me. I don’t suppose I have enough time or energy to address them all. And what would be the point now? No matter what I do, it appears that you won’t be changing your mind.

It hurts me tremendously to have to write this letter to you, as I very much wanted to be a part of your family. I always wanted you to approve of me, as you have been such an important part of my husband’s life. I wanted you to know me, understand me, and have meaningful discussions about life and love with me. And I had such wonderful plans for you to be a part of Jade’s life – to take her to the zoo, show her your beautiful garden, teach her to bake cookies and make pasta in your warm Italian kitchen.

I am sad that those dreams of mine have come to an end. I guess they should have ended long ago, but I always thought that, if I just tried a little harder… But, I am too tired to try anymore. I have more on my plate now than any one person should have at one time. And so, I am letting this go. In honor of Mother’s Day, I am finally letting you go.

Sincerely,
Your Son’s Wife

~~~
Cathy Crenshaw Doheny is an award-winning freelance writer, specializing in creative nonfiction. Her works have been featured in various online and print publications in the US, Canada, Australia, and Ireland. She is the winner of the Kaixin Inaugural Writing Competition, as well as a multi-award winner on the Notes and Grace Notes site. You can read more about her writing at http://cathydoheny.blogspot.com.

Dear Alex,

I remember the first Mother’s Day after you were born. I was so proud to be able to stand up in church and be given a corsage. I felt like I had joined the world of real women; I was a Mom.

Now keep in mind that at that time you were about 6 months old and it had been a really rough 6 months. You were one of those babies who got your days and nights mixed up, so the two of us, a scared girl and a crying baby spent many nights together in a rocking chair over those months. During that time I began talking to you.

Other women keep journals. I talked to my baby. I told you all my hopes and dreams and all of the things I wanted out of life. Then I started telling you all the things that a man needs to know and learn from his mother. Of course you don’t remember all of those conversations and considering the lack of sleep they were probably incomprehensible anyway.  You had finally started sleeping at night right before Mother’s Day. So it was a triumphant day for me. I had met the challenges that being a young new mother had thrown at me and we had both survived.

So now you are 15 years old and I am still so proud to be your Mom. You have grown into such a handsome young man, but that is just on the outside. You are a talented musician, but that is just something you do.  You are fun and funny with a great sense of humor, but that is just your personality. What counts is what is on the inside. You are kind hearted and gentle. You choose the homeliest looking animals as the ones you love the most, and you donate your time to help those who are less fortunate. You set goals and strive for them with a single-minded intensity. I have no doubts you will achieve whatever you decide to achieve in your life.

I am shocked and amazed that a scared and confused girl like me could raise a son as wonderful as you. I hope that the lessons that I have taught you will stay with you through your life and you will always keep that sweet smile and easy laugh. And remember always that your Mommy loves you very much and while I was teaching you, I was learning myself. Being your mother has taught me the true meaning of unconditional love and the thrill of crying tears of joy.

This Mother’s Day, I am the proud mother of two wonderful boys but no Mothers Day will ever compare to my first one.

Love,

Mom

A mother will care,

a mother will share,

a mother is there.

Mum, you taught me

to care and to share.

Mum, you showed me how to be there.

There for my husband,

there for my child.

There for you too, my wonderful mum.

All that I’ve learnt

of how to be good,

every time I do what I should;

that’s when your caring and sharing shows,

you taught me the things a good mother knows.

Thank you for everything Mum,

I love you.

Dear Boys,

I never understood what I was missing until the both of you were born. I never knew what it was like to have someone who shared my features, my likes, or my genetics.

I was always the shortest member of my family. I was the only one with dark, curly hair. I was the only one with blue and gold eyes. But that never mattered to me.

I would joke with friends that I was the only Italian in my family. I would snicker as I watched them try to figure it out. Their brows would furrow and their noses would crinkle. Then they would either get a sparkle in their eyes or would just come out and ask me how that is possible. I am no longer the only Italian in my family.

I remember a couple of times when grandma and I were together. A stranger or an acquaintance would say how much I looked like her. We would chuckle and say thank you, all the while knowing that the person was just saying that to make conversation or to be kind. We knew that we looked nothing alike, but we didn’t mind.

None of this ever mattered to me until the day that I discovered that you had the same divot on the back of your head as I do. I cried. I didn’t know that this ever affected me, but now I know that you share a part of me that was never important before. A genetic skull formation sent me on a quest to find other likenesses.

Your little toes come to a point at the bottom, just like mine.

You have thick, curly hair, just like mine.

You have blue eyes with a touch of gold, just like mine.

You have a birthmark on your finger, just like mine.

You have incredibly pointy elbows, just like mine.

You have a love for seafood, just like me.

You can wiggle your ears, just like me.

You have a love for ketchup, just like….your dad.

Never change, you are a part of me and I am a part of you.

I love both of you so very much,
Mommy