Tell me mother

Dear Mom,
There are a few things I forgot to ask you. I want to know the things I cannot change. I want to know if I can do anything that I dream. I want to know what you think about my life. How did I turn out? Did you expect this, or am I completly different? These are the questions that will go unanswered forever.
Unanswered questions can go either way in terms of being good or bad. I wonder if you were here to answer these questions if I would like the answers. I'm not so sure, but who knows.

Mom, I will never get over you.

Dear Mom,
When you lose a loved one, people tell you that one day you will get over it, that it gets easier, that the pain goes away. In truth, it doesnt. It never gets easier, it just gets easier to bury. People never know what to say when they have found out that your mom is dead. They will apologize, even though it's clearly not thier fault. Or sometimes they will bring up someone they have lost like its suppossed to compare to your story, which it doesn't. Just like my loss will ever compare to thiers. People handle things differently, therfore one loss can never be compared to another. One thing i think people dont realize is that fact that it never becomes real, and when it does slightly start to become real I start to try and hide it, or make it go away. I hate being alone because when I'm alone i think about how real it really is. When I'm alone I focus on these facts, where when my mind is not focused on my mom's death its almost like i'm gonna go home to her, or call and check in with her later, you know people are always away from thier mother. It's just realizing true reality that your never coming home, and that I'll never come home to see you. Or the fact that I'm never going to look out into an audiance and see you smiling and clapping with pride. I've realized you'll never plan my wedding or help mend my dress. You'll never baby sit my children, you'll never spoil them with candy. I can never pick up a phone and call you and tell you how great my days been. None of that, and I am scared. Im scared to face life without you.

Beyond that, when a loved one dies they become a memory, just another name, just another body in the ground. You know longer have a voice, or an opinion. To the rest of the world, you don't matter. You become just another picture in the family album, just another story. Nothing is present of you. You cannot hold the ones you love, or yell at the ones you hate. You are gone, a spirit lost forever.

People say death is a crossover, but who knows. What if you are here, or what if spirits don't exsist. No one can really say what goes on. Personally, I like to believe in god. I like to believe that even though you did wrong that you are in heaven, away from your suffering, free from your addiction. I pray that your are rich in your words, and humble in your actions, and that one day when i die, I will see you again. That's my thought anyways.

My strange relationship with my mothers sister.

Dear Mom,
I flew out to see your sister with my best friend this weekend. The trip was interesting. I swear it's like sometimes I can look into her eyes and see you. It's so wierd because you guys are completly different.
When she came out when I was little, I believe it was the last time she saw you. It was the most awkward Visit ever. We couldn't let her into our motel room because it was to dirty to let anyone see. I think we went to the beach, because I have pictures of it that she sent me when you passed. You smoked a bowl before you saw her and said you wanted to relax. I had to run out of the motel and meet her. It was so wierd, I didn't even know what she looked like. She came up to me. We had smoothies at this one smootie bar and they were gross. I tried to suck it down before she realized the nasty face I was probably making. She couln't stop calling her famly though. Everytime we would turn around she would be on the phone. It got really annoying after a while.
The next time I saw her, it was for your funeral. She came out to Cali and got a hotel. She only stayed for a few days, and I spent the night with her. I guess it was nice, we bonded a little more. We ate breakfast at Mcdonald's and I was still very speechless, so we didn't talk about you much. When she left I missed her a lot. I'm not sure why. I think it's because she reminds me of you so much.
This last visit was outragous. Her kids are very cute, and very structured. It's crazy how perfect her life seems. Perfect husband, perfect kids, perfect house, perfect vacations, and I can't help but think how much she could have helped me. How I suffered for so long and she was never there. She's apologized many times, but I still can't get over it. I made a vow to never ever do that to anyone I care about. It's a terrible feeling. She got to meet my best friend Jaymee and her feelings about your sister were very funny. You would have laughed so hard if you heard what she had to say.
I always wonder what it was like with you two. If you were close or not. I can only go by what she has to say which is only one sided. I know a little of what you had said, but those stories are crazy.
Winona

My mother stood there.

Dear Mom,

I remember when you knew we wouldn't be able to pay the rent or the bills. When you sat with your hands in your eyes and cried. Black ran down your face as your make up came off in your tears. You hated not being able to provide. I just sat next to you wondering what we were going to do, what I had wondered many, many times before.
When we got home one day from the store, there was a 90 day eviction notice on the door.You just stood there. We took it off, and tried to come in but as we tried to turn on the lights they didn't turn on the electricity was out to. We lit some candles and went and grabbed a cooler for our milk so it didnt rot. This was the begining of living ut of coolers. A couple months later when the sheriffs showed up and told us to get out. I can still remember your face, as you just stood there. What else was there to do? They yelled and yelled and yelled. His face was red, and his eyes gleaming in anger. It was crazy. When we took our suitcases and left all I wanted to do was go back. I was so upset.

My Mother Is Now A Memory.

Dear Mom,

Here we go again mom. I'm stuck in your mememory sometimes, and ever since you died, I think about you everyday. Im not stuck in the past though, dont confuse it please. I have completely moved on, I believe. I've found when I look at your pictures, or pictures of us that I am happy. I enjoy seeing us together or seeing you when I thought you were happy. I try to pretend that you never left that your still here, or one phone call away. In reality, your not, and will never be. Which does in fact scare the shit out me. I try to face the fact that your gone. That you never got to see who I am now, or what I will be one day. I wish I could show you everything. Better said in his words:

" I know if I had one more day, it would leave me wishin still for one more day with you"

Love, Winona

My mother showed me life.

Dear Mom,

So there I was stuck in this horrible place.The rain was running in and I was getting wet. Cold, and in this small laundry room. I was curled in a ball. I was 11 years old. I had run away from you. I couldn't stand watching you do drugs, and ruin our lives anymore.

I don't know why I decided I could live on my own. It was probably because I had taken care of myself sorta for a long time before that.I just don't understand why no one came looking for me, almost like no one cared, and that's what I thought in the beginning. Maybe that's why I stayed gone, and didn't come back. It was the third time I had run away and I didn't think I was coming back this time, I never did. If I wouldn't have left I feel like things would be different between you and me. But what's don't is done right? That's what you would have said.

Mom, I just want you to know, that I learned how to be so independent from you. I'm very different from everyone else my age. I cant stand being jobless, I like to have money, and I like to do things for myself. I refuse to rely on a man, or a paycheck. I know that you bore me for a reason. I guess I feel like I need to find some sort of niche in the world. Something to prove that I was put here, on this earth for a reason. I just don't know what yet. I'm pissed your not here to show me. Isn't that what mothers are supposed to do?

My mother was a smoker.

Dear Mom,

You smoked like it was going out of buisness. Bowl after bowl, cigarette after cigarette.
Love Winona

My mom was "the other woman"

Dear Mom,

I realize now that you have ruined my perception of men. Actually, let me rephrase that, I feel like like your actions have ruined my perception of men. The way I saw you interact with men, was not normal. I have come to that conclusion.
You told them you loved them, you held on too tight, you cried when they left, and you cried when they were there. His name was Brian. He was Caucasian, with dark hair and dark eyes. His hair would never be combed and his frizzy hair would be in this rediculous Jerry curl. I hated him. He had a wife, and two kids and you had no problem with that. The drugs had to have played a huge part in those decisions, because a normal person would not have made such rash decisions.His face was pale and stubbly. His chin was very ugly and his cheekbones were high for a man. He was nothing but skin and bones. He drove a Volkswagen. At first, I like him and his family. His wife's name was Lalani. She was a big woman. Her kids were so cute. She hated Brian for his drugs, and his drinking. I hated Brian for his drugs, for treating my mom disgusting and for his pedophile friend. That relationship made me sick. I walked down stairs one day and saw you having sex with him. It was so gross, I didn't know you guys were sexual, you were friends with his wife for god sake. I remember when she came over and put a knife in your face and I thought she was going to kill you, but she didn't. You were really upset when he followed her back to their old apartment and kissed his kids goodnight. You cried and when he came back, you cried in his arms, while he soothed you with his fake excuses and his gross touch. When I went with him to go get coffee for you one morning when we were living in that prostitute motel he took your coffee and dropped little things in it, and I had no idea what was going on. Later that day, you and him sat down and did whippits. I tried to drown out the loud noise that was coming from that stupid ass metal thing. The room was tiny and you had sex in the same room as me with him. When you guys argued, the cops came and dragged you out naked. It was embarrassing. They let me stay with him. How nice of them right? NOT. I can't believe that your most influential relationship only last a few months. I remember it like it was yesterday, and I see myself in you all the time when it comes to relationships. It's hard to comprehend. I don't ever want to be in a relationship, I feel to young and restless. This I believe is directly from you.
Love Winona.

My mother was manic.

Dear Mom,

Mental illness runs in our family. You mom, Dianne was Bipolar. Her mom was clinically depressed and stoned constantly. Her husband, or your grandpa was also Bipolar. Me, though have not yet had a therapist tell me I have a disorder. Knock on wood.

I could never wrap my mind around your illness, but now I can recognize it more clearly. You always told me about mental illness, but I never understood yours. I remember coming home from school, and trying to talk to you, but you wouldn't respond, you would just sit there. Your eyes were angry.I asked why you were so mad at me, and you wouldn't say a word. I never knew. Then you would get up and slam things like doors. I shook every time you slammed a door. You would take glasses and throw them at me, and I would dodge them. I remember the day one hit me. You were screaming at your boyfriend and trying to rip out your hair. You were yelling and hitting your self with your fists in your head. I begged you to stop, I tried to grab your hands, but you would just get madder. I cried hysterically. Your make up was running all down your face and smears of black and red covered your face. You told me to leave, that you hated me, that you didn't want me anymore. This probably intended to make me stop crying, made me cry harder. You went to the wall and started banging on it. You told your boyfriend what a piece of shit he was. You took the light bulb right out of the lamp and threw it on the ground. I yelled at you to stop once more. You walked into the kitchen, where I was standing and grabbed a glass you threw it at me, but missed and hit the window. You turned around and I thought you were done but then you turned again, picked up another glass and threw it. I couldn't dodge that one , and it hit me in the neck and chin and fell to the ground, where it shattered. I broke down and fell to the ground, around all the glass. That's when you stood there and stared. Then you walked away and left. You slammed the door again. I laid on the floor crying and your boyfriend tried to get me to stand up but I wouldn't. I fell asleep there. When I woke up I decided to pick up the mess. I saw a pool of blood next to the light bulb you had cracked earlier. When I went to clean it up with a towel I threw up. I saw so disgusted. I still cannot stomach blood. I finally got myself together and finished the mess. You walked in later that night and left the lights off. I was in my homemade bed on the floor when you laid down and curled up next to me. I was awake, but you didn't know that. I could smell the alcohol on your breathe, it was outrageous. I'm almost afraid to say that I think your illness raised me.
Love, your daughter.

Although very dysfunctional, my mother loved me.

Dear mom,

The sky was very blue that day, the sun shining on a not so perfect world, not a cloud in sight. It was a Thursday afternoon and i had walked back to our hotel from school. There were a bunch of teenagers sitting outside of the hotel smoking weed and laughing. It was so hot I remember all I wanted was a cold glass of water, and something to eat. I was hungry for a snack too. As I went to walk up the stairs, I saw you sitting on the top stair. Your hair wasn't combed, your make up not done and you were wearing those ugly sweat pants, those ones I hated. You didn't even look up at me, but I sat down next to you and asked you what was wrong. You told me not to worry about it, but that I couldn't go into the room because Ed (your boyfriend) was mad, and that he didn't want to see us. You said we needed to find a place to stay for the night, or money for another night in the hotel.
You got up and told me to wait there, you said you had an idea. After I watched you walk away, tears slowly sweeping my face, I pulled out a reading book that I had gotten from school. I started to read and then you returned. You had a piece of cardboard and a sharpie in your hand and you started to write something. When it was finished you showed it to me , and told me we were going to go to the nearest freeway off ramp and sit there with the sign. I didn't really understand what was going on and I didn't think much of it. I asked you if i should stay back and wait, but you said no, that having a child there would get us more money. So we walked down to the freeway, and when you saw me crying you grabbed my hand and held it. When we got to the freeway you told me to sit on this rock that was near it, where people could see. You held your sign as you stood next to me. I kept complaining about how hungry I was, and you told me not to talk. One lady with bright blond hair and bright red lipstick rolled down her window and told you that you were disgusting for doing such a thing to your kid. You didn't say anything to her, but instead you focused on holding the tears back. I wasn't as strong and I could never hold it back. Another guy rolled down his window and handed you five dollars. You thanked him and then looked at me and handed me the five dollars. You said to go get myself a few tacos from sombrero's. I asked you if you were sure and you said of course. I asked if you were hungry and you nodded your head no. So I walked over to Sombrero's and ordered two beef taco's and ate them. I thought about that nice man that had paid. I thought about the sacrifices you made. Although very dysfunctional, you loved me,
Love Winona

Here goes. number one.

My mother was a drug attict.

Dear Mom,

When I was seven you picked me up from school. I was in the second grade. I got in the car and I started complaining about how Rachel, (that one girl that always made of fun me) was being rude again. You told me to ignore her, and I started crying and told you how you would never understand. We stopped at the post office, and you ran in really quick. When you came back out, you said we needed to go to Procter Valley, the police ended up finding a local dead girl there a few months after that. Once we got there you pulled out a needle, tied your arm of with a rubber band, and shot up. I will never forget this moment, because it was the first time I had ever seen you shoot up. I didn't think it was wrong. You said that you needed a shot. I understood. I guess it was our dirty little secret, that I didnt know I was holding for you.