You were my best friend. When I was young you chased away nightmares. You taught me to make friends, to not lie, to always have fun, and to treat others with respect. Last year you left.
This isn't about the divorce you caused with your cheating. This isn't about the affair, or the lies, or the alcohol abuse. This isn't about the plane accident your boyfriend got you into.
This is about you leaving me.
You promised me that you would do anything for me if I just asked. I begged you not to go. I begged you to come home after the hospital. I begged you to keep loving me. You told me you'd always love me, that nothing would change.
But here I am, it's been two months since the mother that I was so close to for 18 years has told me she loved me, or has talked to me for that matter. The mother who endlessly devoted her time to me has hardly any for me now.
It's been a year and a half since I got that dreadful text message, the one asking how my mother was and ultimately alerting me to the fact that my mother was in a horrific plane accident.
It's been a year and a half since my mother woke up and asked my father, brother, and I to leave.
Daddy has a girlfriend, your son is abusing drugs, I broke up with my boyfriend of two years because he reminded me of you.
My life is not where it's supposed to be.
I shouldn't be going on university tours with Daddy, I should be with you. We'd go shopping, go to the beach, and really see the town like girls do.
I shouldn't be consulting friends' moms about boys. You should be screening them yourself to see if they're fit for me.
I shouldn't have night terrors of your face covered in blood, or of you screaming at me to leave.
I can't understand what changed. I can't figure out if I was too clingy, if I wasn't funny enough, if I didn't tell you I loved you enough times. But it's been two months so I must have done something.
You should know, when I'm not stressing over you, I'm with Daddy. I help him pick little gifts for his new girlfriend. She and I got our nails done together. She helped me pick an outfit for a show once or twice. She's not you, but I think she knows I miss having a motherly figure and wants to help.
You should know, when you're out with your boyfriend's daughter, taking her pictures for proms, helping her pick out dresses, discussing makeup, I know. I know you're picking her over me. I know you're enjoying her presence more than mine. I know that you're replacing me.
As much as I try to, I can't put anyone in your spot. They will never be the you I grew up with. The you that is current isn't my mother either though, so I can't even put you in your own spot.
I'm left alone, with an empty hole that should be filled by the woman who walks like you, looks like you, has your name; but I'm left with the physical mother I loved without the personality I have known.
So for now, I'll continue to call and reach your voicemail. I'll keep texting you about my day and important events. I'll keep watching the door at my shows.
I'll keep missing you.
Love,
Your Daughter
