My mom passed away 23 years ago. I never told her that I was sorry for the way that I treated her. Some people might say that it's a little late now to tell her how I feel. Some might say there's no point in dwelling on the past. Many might say that I should live in the present moment and let bygones be bygones. They would all be right.
But sometimes the past gets stuck in us and creates all kinds of problems. Sometimes we can't seem to move forward because there's something holding us back. And in probably all cases, that something is in the past. To ignore the past seems counterproductive to me.
I was never close to my mother. In fact, I pushed her away continuously. I felt like she didn't give me the time, attention, and affection that I needed when I was a child. I literally begged her for attention. I even wrote her a letter. I bared my little ten year old soul and she was too busy to listen. That was the last time I asked. One letter... one rejection... sometimes that's all it takes. There must have been more instances, but this is the one that I remember vividly. From that day forward, I quit asking, I quit talking, I quit listening, I quit trying to have a relationship with my mother. I ignored her, I made snide comments to her, I made all kinds of excuses to be anywhere but with her. I never opened myself up for rejection again. By God, I was going to reject her before she could ever reject me again. I've been holding onto this technique ever since.
I'm sure my mother never understood why I had so much animosity toward her. I didn't understand it myself. One thing I know for sure is that it doesn't just go away by itself. It doesn't even go away when the object of our animosity is no longer here. Where does it go? It gets stuck inside and comes out in all kinds of ways. The anger simmers beneath the surface and boils over anytime and anywhere, sometimes for no apparent reason. Anything can trigger it.
I also felt a deep sadness dwelling inside of me. I didn't understand that either. I think that it's similar to mourning. I'm not mourning my mother's passing so much as I'm mourning the loss of those 24 years when we could have had a relationship and didn't. I'm mourning the fact that I can never get those years back. I'm mourning the fact that I never told her that I was sorry.
Now what? I can keep beating myself up for being a lousy daughter. I can transfer the anger that I felt toward her inward toward myself. I can keep rejecting anyone who comes into my life before they get the chance to reject me. Or I can make a conscious decision to change. I choose that answer. I didn't have a choice before, because I didn't know why I was doing what I was doing. I didn't like being that way, which only contributed to even more frustration. So, it's like a weight lifting off of my shoulders to have this understanding. With understanding comes the ability to make different choices.
I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry we missed out on the closeness that mothers and daughters should have. I'm sorry that I was never able to love you and appreciate you fully. I'm sorry that I wasn't with you when you died. I'm sorry that I never forgave you. I forgive you now. Do you forgive me?
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