Unspoken

I pulled another box from the closet with sigh. I was so mad at her. I clenched my hands into fists and grimaced. I pummeled the box briefly before opening it. No, no - of course she didn’t die on purpose, of course I was sad. I was devastated and wished I could take back the last bitter words I said. I loved her so much, and missed her like crazy. She died thinking I hated her; eyes glaring, my face twisted in an ugly image because she said “No” to me in the morning before she left for work.

I started to go through the box. It was full of stuff from when I was born, and even when my Mom was pregnant. There was a sonogram picture and a journal of her experiences and feelings through out - from the time she tested pregnant until my birth. I flipped through it with great interest. So much stuff I never knew! Between the pages, I found an envelope. It was blank. I opened it up to find several hand-written pages of a letter to the coming baby girl. That was me! I started reading. Tears filled my eyes when I read the words in front of me - parts of a life I never realized, but now things started coming clearer in my mind. Reasons why we fought. Reasons I had not known, but wish I had. She wrote about the two pregnancies that had come before me - the two heart-wrenching miscarriages preceding my birth. The two potential siblings I had never known about. I was an only child. I thought it was a choice. How many times had I broken my Mom’s heart by asking for a sister?

I leaned back on the bed, wiping the tears from my eyes. I took a deep breath and continued reading about her hopes and dreams for me, my life.

When I heard the front door open and my Dad’s footsteps, I rushed down the stairs, straight into his arms to give him a desparate hug. I hadn’t really spoken to my Dad in the last couple of months, other than to lash out. He stoically bore the brunt of my irrational anger.

“I love you, Dad! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay. I love you, too. It’s okay,”and he hugged me back like a bear. I sunk myself into his welcoming frame, sobbing.

I still held the letter in my trembling hand. Dad gently took it and started reading Mom’s words. Silently, he wiped his eyes, took my hand and gently led me to the kitchen. He pulled out a chair for me. I sat down while he prepared us each a cup of hot cocoa, then sat across from me at the table at which we had not sat together since that horrible day.

He began, “Let me tell you about when I first met your Mom.” He shocked me with a smile while recounting their meeting, their marriage their plans for the future and a family.

“She loved you more than anything. You meant the world to her and she would do anything to make sure you were taken care of.”

“But I was so mean to her! I told her I hated her right before I never saw her again!” The tears fell again. I couldn’t stop them, anymore than I could stop the sobs that wracked my body.

“She knows you loved her despite the typical teenage tantrums. She knew they were coming. She knew you didn’t mean it. She loved you and only wanted the best for you. I swear, in the end, she only felt your love and saw your beautiful face.” He reached over and squeezed my hand.

I hugged him again when I got up from the table. He handed back the letter.

“Here, this is yours.”

I slept with it that night clasped to my heart, vowing to try to be everything she had hoped.

Thank you for reading!