I wasn't a little girl. I was twenty-four years old. Been living with my husband for almost six years. I knew you and mom were having some difficulties. I would of never dreamed it was something you couldn't work passed together. Thirty something years you were together. But here I am now, writing this letter in which you will never read because I have no intentions of speaking to you. I stayed through moms side through the whole divorce. I knew she needed me. There were little things she'd say that would ignite a rage so deep inside of me that I would just have to walk away. But you know the difference between you and I? I would come back. Because I could not for the life of me, walk away from my mother. My mother who gave me life, who taught me to be kind to other people yet take no shit when it came to anything. My mother who is the strongest woman I know yet is so fragile but will never show it. My mother who suffers daily from an immune disease that lies beneath the surface that no one sees. I'm angry with her. But I'm here for her always.
As for you, I have such an anger deep inside that will never falter. When you left my mom, you left me. You don't get to miss me, you don't get to call me your daughter. You don't get to spend the holidays with me. No. I won't give you that. Only for the fact that you have not contacted me throughout the divorce. Or even after. I wouldn't hear from you for weeks. When I would at any other time barely go a day without talking to you.
But when you would talk to me it wasn't because you called. It was because we would see each other in public and you would have to keep up the appearance as if everything was as it should be. But I knew the truth. I grew up a daddy's girl. But not anymore.
The only thing I need to know is why I wasn't worth it? What did I do to deserve you leaving me? I loved you unconditionally but when you broke my mother's heart you also broke mine. You can take time out of your oh so busy life to talk to my brother, and his kids. You even talk to my husband. But do you put in an effort for me? No. As everything else in this world does, you forget I exist. And that hurts more than anything.
