Dear Mom,

Dear Mom,

I know I have given you so much grief over the years. About how you did this instead of that or didn’t do something I felt you should have done. I just wanted you to know how strong I always thought you were. I didn’t quite understand the strength of a woman and how much was required until I too became a mother. Granted, I have only been one for seven years, but I have learned so much and I understand so much more about why you made choices you made and how much you sacrificed for us.

When you were growing up your mother was useless. You were told you were worthless and were severely abused. Even after all that you took your mother in as she was aging, while supporting 4 children.

It started first with Marie. You could not jeopardize her health by continuing to walk to school, so you did not get a chance to finish your associates degree. Your doctor said you had appendicitis and if they operated on you Marie would die. You would not take that chance and he ordered you that traveling by bus during the pregnancy, was also too risky, so you gave up on your dreams.

You lost one in between Marie and I, but it was a hemorrhage, so you did not know for sure. You went on to have me 3 ½ years after Marie. I tuned out all rightish. You raised us in unsafe neighborhoods in Chicago, walking us everywhere because we were lucky if we had one working car. You never slept because you were scared when Dad worked overnights and double shifts as a police officer. You didn’t feel safe alone with your children in the areas we lived, and you were worried about Dad coming home alive.

You paid attention to us and made our Halloween costumes. You baked with us and did the best you could for us. You walked me every week to a discount ballet class because I wanted to be a dancer. You took the bus and travelled through dangerous neighborhoods, homemade chili under your coat to see Dad in the hospital, after he was thrown down three flights of stairs during work.

I remember you lost one in between James and I too. That one was four months along. I had no idea. Dad just told me to go give you a hug. I know you were not in bed long. You had two other girls to take care of and an aging mother who cared extraordinarily little for you. You got up and kept going even though I am sure you did not want too.

James was 5 ½ years younger than me and he was fine. He was crazy and active and very much a boy. Those were not the worst times though. It was when he was 12 and became addicted to drugs. That was when many of the problems started to pile up. Because not only did he start battling with addiction, but Todd was dealing with autism at the same time. Two short years before that I started having issues with mental health.

You finally learned to drive, and we were able to get a better car. Just in time too because most of your time was spent running each of us three children back and forth to therapy. You tried working various part time jobs to help our income, but so many times you had to quit because one of us needed you.

You were there when I was raped. You came with me to pack up my room at college when I came back to take my finals after doing credits by mail and for Marie’s graduation. You kicked me in my butt when I wanted to fall into depression when it happened. You made me get out of bed and do something with my life. You helped me to keep marching on.

We went for walks, you and I. Miles upon miles, in which I told you about everything in my life and you helped me heal. You would always say I was your best friend, but I would tell you that you were my mother, not a friend. You never understood how much more important that bond was than friendship. The bond between mothers and daughters is eternal.

You were always timid in some ways, but when it came to fighting for Todd and making sure he got the help he needed in school, you were a lion. Despite your rheumatoid arthritis you slept in front of the door to make sure James did not sneak out to get high. You always fought for your children.

You ran girl scouts for 9 years or more, so I could have friends. You worked so much to help provide the stability we needed in an everchanging world. You worried and fretted and did your best to keep us safe. You couldn’t always, but no mother can.

Even though you were given truly little love from your mother you gave my siblings and I the world. James knew you were the first person to call when he finally started recovering from addiction and had gotten a job and met his future wife. You were the first person I told when I found out I would be a mother. You continue to provide for Todd, since he is unable to support himself. No matter all you have gone through, you never once wavered or stopped, and I always know that no matter what happens with this life you will be there. With my favorite meal on the table and arms open for a hug.