To You My Beloved Mother

Dear Mother,

You brought me here. Gave me life. You watched me grow, and you watched me become the man that I am now, and for better or for worse, I am the byproduct of all the things that you made me.

Oh you, my beloved mother.

There are so many things that I wished I could tell you. So many things that you would have known about me if you and I were closer. Had better communication. If you and I had a better relationship.

If only I had been a better son.

But instead, I will leave it all here for you. I will bare my soul to you the way that I never have before. The way that I wished that I could have done so before.

I remember it all still, the way that you would pry into my life, the way that you would try to find out all the things that I didn't say. Or maybe it's that I couldn't say them. I love you mom, I really do, but that didn't mean that I trusted you. I couldn't not with the amount of pressure that you put upon me. I was too scared to disappoint you, too scared to be the man that I truly was. I wore a mask around you, made it so that you would only see what you wanted to see and for that I am sorry. But for once, I will tell you the truth. Considering that you can't understand what this says anyways it will be for the best.

There was someone mom. I fell in love with someone that you never would have liked or gotten along with. The absolute last person in the world that you would have accepted. So I hid it from you. Became dodgy, avoided your eyes when you would scrutinize me like you always did. Those eyes became too much of a burden, too heavy, too harsh with their weight upon my back.

I hated it. I hated the weight of your expectations. Of your demands. I could not stand the knowledge that you would never care to know the person that I really am. Did you ever care I wonder? Would you have changed if I told you any of these things? Would you have tried to quell the heartache of your youngest son when his heart was shattered? Would it have brought us closer together?

I confess it all here and now. In a way that you cannot understand, in a way that you would never see. If you could read these words, would it be any better for us?

I am unhappy and face you with a mask so that you do not know of my burden. I am unhappy with how I am, with who I am. I am unhappy with so much and I tell you nothing. I tell you nothing because you are not here. You are a thousand miles away even though we are in the same room and you are the sun and I am a petulant child who vainly wishes to reach up and grab the heavens. I tell you this all now, because it grew too heavy for my heart to bear. My head too weighted down, my back bent to the point of breaking by all of the words that I do not say. The words that I cannot say, the things that kept us apart for far too long.

I am sorry mother, truly I am. Maybe with writing this I may find the courage to speak to you. Maybe with these confessions placed into written word, I can find the voice to tell you myself. But for now, this is the best that I can do. I never told you of my heartache, of the person I once loved, of the unhappiness of your son. But maybe I can find some small solace here and now.

May this be the first step in all the things I must say.

Sincerely,

Your Son. The Coward who Never Spoke the Truth.