My mother died of cancer in November 10, 1989. I do not know if there is any consciousness after death, but if there is this is what I would say to her:
Mama:
I don't miss you. I don't miss anything about you. I used to feel guilty that I don't love you, but I came to realize that is your doing. Not mine.
I do wonder sometimes about the woman you used to be, or could have been. I would have liked to have known her. But that part of you died before I was born, didn't she? I was raised by what was left.
Do you remember how you would make fun of me when I was sad, or when I cried? You never asked why, but I think you knew. I thnk you knew and just didn't care. That's my strongest memory of my childhood with you, an unrelenting sadness. People tell me I should have been angry at what you did, but I never could. I only really felt sad.
I was sad when you stood and watched your father rape me.
I was sad you made fun of me when some of the other kids threw me into a garbage can.
I was sad when you broke my nose.
I was sad that nothing I ever did was good enough for you.
But most of all, I was sad that you never liked me. No child should ever know this. My body healed from the rapes and beating, but when I realized you really didn't care or have the tiniest shred of affection or just like me, it created a cold dead spot in my heart that is there to this day. I still grieve this and probably always will.
I can't imagine not caring about my children. I have two now. Sometimes, when they don't notice, I watch them when they play or when they're asleep. My life that could have been, and wasn't. Did you know they can sleep with the door open? I never could. They don't awaken screaming in the middle of the night. They will never know what I know. But most of all, they will never know you and for that I am truly grateful.
There is one thing I used to be angry about: how you manipulated my friends before you died. You told me once that you would try to drag me down with you. You damned near did. But out of your hatred came the greatest gift you ever gave me: you made it impossible for me to stay a Witness.
Without you, I would never have left. Perhaps there is a God after all.
If there truly is, I hope he was shown more mercy and kindess to you, than you did to me.
Your son,
Chris