Be forewarned my darling daughter, there is a bit of rambling and repetition in this letter. That’s okay. I forgive myself. *smiles*
It would be nice if things were different. If we were comfortable sharing with one another. Talking about things. Being a part of one another’s day-to-dayness or even month-to-monthness. The operative word here is “comfortable.” You were pretty young the first time you expressed the fear I would cut you out of my life. Understandable since you’d seen me do it to family. Me thinketh perhaps my repeated reassurances that would never happen did not alleviate (or completely alleviate) your fears.
It would be nice if we talked more. Talked about the things we find important. Made us laugh. Silly things. Funny things. Hell, it’d be nice to have drag down, knock ’em out, screaming matches and disagreements. They’re great pressure releasers. Gets all the shit out. You rant. Rave. Scream. Yell. Then you can kick back. Enjoy the quiet after the storm and think things through … logically. Being with the Love of My Life has taught me a secure and solid relationship allows the freedom of such fights. Knowing the spewing forth won’t send the other packing is a great comfort. We don’t have that security. Sadly, I can see you doing the great disappearing act (again, understandable) and am loath to take that chance. So I keep things inside. Or censor them. Or dilute them. For all I know, you do the same.
It would be nice if I knew how to talk with you. Person to person. Not mother to daughter. Not teacher to student. Simply as one person who enjoys the company of the other. According to the Love of My Life, I don’t share of myself. Of my past. My history. Not much. Not easily. And when I do, it’s only tiny snippets here and there. Perhaps that’s what you saw growing up. Perhaps that’s how you thought it “should” be. I know not. Both because I’m not in your head and because we don’t talk of such things.
It would be nice to know your take on religion. Spirituality. Faith. Belief. How your time in boarding school affected you. And how being taken away affected you. Then again at this point I’m not sure of my own take on all that. There were many years of guilt. Anger at myself for putting you in a situation where you could be hurt, and were hurt. Anger at those who took advantage of my desperate pleas for help. Anger they turned a promised sanctuary into a battleground for your soul.
It is nice knowing we love one another. No doubt about that. We care for one another. I’ve loved you, wanted you and cherished you since the moment of your conception. I know the world is a better place because you are here. Still,
It would be nice if I knew you. Was privy to your hopes and dreams. Writing the above, the adage “point one finger at me and three point back at you” comes to mind. Perhaps I need to get to know myself and then I can share. Perhaps you’ll reciprocate. Perhaps not. Still it’s a nice thought. As is the idea of getting to know one another as we get to know (or become more comfortable with) ourselves.
I know you’re very different than me. Though emotional, you’re far more analytic. When you want to know about something, you research the heck out of it. You have a great mind and the ability to extrapolate information from a myriad of sources. You have a strong will and you’re able to persuade others — though always politely so they feel honored to do as you ask. (I’ve often said you’d make a great litigator … perish the thought! lol) You believe in love, accepting and embracing it in whatever form it presents itself.
I know from the moment of conception you have always been the exception to every rule. For you I would do (and did do) things I’d never do for myself. I did them freely (though not always graciously). Because I believed they were right for you. Was my track record as a parent perfect? Hell no! Did I get it right more often than not? I believe so. You’re the only one who can give that question its definitive answer. Have I always liked you? No. Have I always loved you? Yes. I’ve loved the “being” of you. Unconditionally.
It would be nice to share in the “doing” of you. Obviously you call the shots on how much or little I am a part of your life. Which is fine (in theory). I stand by that theory. Still, I am human. I have my multitude of F-I-Qs (foibles, isms & quirks). At times your choices hurt. I see my friends with their daughters. They talk. They know what’s going on in their daughters’ lives. They even spend time together, when they can. But I don’t know how.
I understand your need and desire to be independent. It’s been a motivating force in your life from a young age. Sadly it appears such need necessitates keeping me at a distance. Not exactly cutting me out of your life, but definitely not part of its inner circle. More of a periphery position. Given the occasional tidbit. Enough to know you are still alive and kicking.
It would be nice if things were different. They aren’t. It is what it is. We are who we are. While many things would be pleasant, I appreciate all I have. On my list of top niceties is the fact you are here. A part of this world. A part of my life. And though I am apparently greedy, I am grateful. Thank you for what you choose to give and share. It is appreciated. It is cherished. It means the world to me. Ani ohevet otach yoter mi’kol mispar!
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