My brother informed me that he keeps getting e-mails from my mother, who wants to write to me. I ended my relationship with her about 4 years ago. Why can’t she just leave me alone? If the last year or so of our relationship is any indication of where her mind’s at, she undoubtedly wants some assurance from me that she’s not really a horrible person. She wanted back then for me to absolve her of all wrong-doing. She asked too much. It is not for me to absolve her. And it is not for me to tell her that what she did in not protecting me, by staying with my abuser after she knew he was a pedophile, wasn’t such a big deal after all.
My mother wants to write to me, and I can still see in my mind’s eye her perfect, very ladylike handwriting. All of my parts wince at the memory of her penmanship. If none of us can stand to see that, how on earth can we bear the thought of any kind of contact? For I’m convinced that she wants more than to become my pen-pal. She wants, I’m certain of it, to re-enter my kids’ and grandkids’ lives–and I hope that never happens. I have no control over what my sons may decide where she is concerned, but if the cycle of abuse is perpetuated in this family, it won’t be through me.
My mother wants to write . . . to me, to that invisible person I had to become during my childhood in order to survive. She hasn’t been able to bear looking at me in decades. And I can’t say I blame her: I must be a constant, nagging reminder of a husband’s perversions and her own love of money which motivated her to stay with him.
My mother wants to write to me, and all I can think is practice what you preach, mother, when you taught, by your unholy example, that we don’t always get what we want.
(My repulsiveness is something my mother & I both agree on but have never discussed.)