Dear Mom;

Fifty six years ago this Mothers day (and it was Mothers Day, that day too), you gave birth to a daughter who loved you, more than you even loved yourself. I expected love and instead you looked at me as the curse who ruined your life. God blessed me with grandparents to raise me in those first few years. Their love sheltered me from your feelings; or lack of them; about me. The time would come when I would be useful to you, as a ticket out of the house so you could cheat on your boyfriend/supposed husband, with two lesbian g/f's you had. The both of you, used me as a punching bag to work out your anger at one another. There were beatings with whiskey bottles, belt buckles and even being stripped naked and left outside for the other kids to laugh at. All that seemed minor compared to the emotional abuse. The name you had for me; satan; tore my soul apart as well as your insistence that I was the blame for all the bad things that happened to you in your life. To be fair though, you did also talk to God and blame God for the troubles in your life as well, and there is a feeling of honor to be in such great company. Still though, I did not judge you or hate you. After-all, I had an older brother you loved dearly; which you made me well aware of; and so I could only think that I had fallen short somehow and I just needed to try harder and protect you more and someday you may love me just as much. Day by day, I learned how to turn off the pain and become emotionless, around you. Grandma made plans for her and I to leave and never look back. I'll never forget the beating she took after you told my grandfather, it must have been a proud day for you. Because you could not deal with your sexuality, you did an about face and slept around with other men. Somewhere between all those times you must have sobered up now and then and how haunting that must have been for you. Meanwhile, I was being molested by a cousin and beaten regularly with your blessings, by your dear son. Abortion now seemed acceptable to you and so the result of you playing around; the baby who would have been my sister; became medical waste. In the next few years you became pregnant once again and this time, another son, which you kept. Grandma passed away; another thing that you let me know was my fault; and it became my job to raise my new brother. You finally married that boyfriend and left him only 2 years later, knowing you had a free meal ticket for your new son, at least. You looked so beautiful when you dressed up to go to the bars and I remember telling you so. Strangers began to live with us and you did not listen when I told you the things that were happening when you left me alone with them and instead called me ungrateful, often using my older brother to administer the beatings to me as you cheered him on. Your absence at my wedding, did not go unnoticed as the guests; many of who who came only after finding out you would not be there, since as you put it, you had laundry to do; as they commented at the reception how there was no one to steal my moment and no arguments as well. I know you were angry when I restricted your access to my kids when I saw you trying to do to them what I had went through, but you'll be happy to know that I never did tell them what you did to me leaving them free to cry and grieve for you and later hate me for not being there at your funeral. I could go on and on, but I think you see now, just how much you meant to me. I remember you, everyday of my life and no one understands why I do not cry because you and your oldest son have both passed away, nor do I ever miss you. I do regret that this makes others uncomfortable because I know they did not know you as I did, so I do have a heart. I do not; however; love in front of others and hate on the inside. In fact, I do not hate at all and for that I suppose I owe you thanks. May this day mean for you throughout eternity, what it means to me.
Your Daughter, Molly