Monday, July 7, 2014

Speaking with a Different Voice

The letter below is one my brother John wrote to his mother while he was in drug boot camp following his parole violation I wrote about here.  So many people, including me,  parenting children with FASD struggle with our feelings toward birth mom's that drank while pregnant.  We tend to be the louder voices more often than the people directly affected.  This weekend I took John to visit his mother's grave.  I wanted to share his thoughts and feelings in his own words.  With his permission of course.

Dear Mom,  
There are many things I never had the chance to tell you for closure.  I know we talk every night when I pray but my thoughts are always very scattered and I wanted to write it down so you can see it in some type of order.  First I would like to say I love you and miss your presence very much.  You always knew how to brighten up a room in every room you walk in.  That to me was an amazing gift.

No matter how many times you left me that hope you would come back to make everything bright always remained. Every night I prayed for you to get better and every day I waited for you to win your struggles with addiction right up until you finally left this earth.  Never was I mad at you, Mom.  But when alcohol and drugs finally took you my hope was crushed.  That hope was the thing that held me together.  Not once was I mad at you.  Even though your addictions caused us a lot of hardships.  In my heart I know you did your best and you did everything you could to make us happy.   So never in the world would I have changed any of you.  You were so beautiful and such a free spirit.  I could tell that even when I didn’t see you from those photos of you with that crazy hair style. 

I know I may not always have been the best child or easy.  It was so hard to trust you whenever you came back but I always would in the end but it never would work out. And I have my own struggles now, Mom.  Most of the reason I am writing you is I can no longer hold your baggage and my own both.  That same weight that kept me together before, I fear it is tearing me apart now.  Today, I feel strong enough to heal and be happy.  I can work on my problems with addiction.  I can accept my disabilities from your addictions.  Being strong has allowed me to remember the good times with you. 

I will never know how you knew your time was up but I am so glad you came to me and I thank you for those last moments with you.  Those are moments I would like to remember so I could share them with my younger siblings and hopefully my own kids sometime in the future.  I feel stronger now because I can accept the bad and the good.   I can let it be past and make a plan for my future.   I am ready to forgive you and keep you in my heart with me forever.  I love you, John.

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