I originally posted this as private but if I’m going to be open and vulnerable I might as well be all out
I remember you so well. I remember the dreams you had. I remember how fiercely you loved your sister, and your cat. I remember your doll Amy. I remember you loved school, you loved to color and your biggest aspiration was to color as well as your mom, and happiest times were when she would color with you. I remember your 4th birthday you got your big girl bike and your bunny Butterscotch. I remember you playing in the sandbox- digging to China. I remember you picking hundreds of dandelions. You loved peanut butter and jelly, dill pickles and exploring. You were curious and active. You craved love, approval, and praise.
But things weren’t all dandelions and sandboxes. Daddy was mean. He said mean things to you. He hit you with his belt. He yelled all the time. He hurt mommy. I remember you hiding under the table watching him hurt mommy. I remember you being scared. I remember you being very quiet at night listening to mama and daddy fight. I remember you being afraid of robbers and covering yourself with stuff animals so the robbers wouldn’t see you. I remember your sadness. I remember you not thinking you were good enough. Feeling like no one loved you. I remember you being so sad as mama drove away in her little black car as she escaped to work.
What I need to tell you is that you haunt me. Every day. I see you in the eyes of my daughter. I see you in her blonde pigtails, her blue eyes, her inquisitive spirit. I see you when she wants to be perfect just like you wanted. I see you when she picks me dandelions. I wish I could say I’m the perfect mama you wanted, but I’m not. But I’m trying my best. I fiercely love both my kids, I will do anything for them and would trade my life for them without a second thought. But sometimes I yell at her like Daddy yelled. Just today for spinning in her chair and spilling her bowl of dry cereal. I’m not much fun these days. I sleep a lot. Or sit and do nothing. I’m trying to protect them the way you should have been. I love you little girl, you are the only part of me I love. I want to wrap my arms around you and make you feel safe in a way only a mama could.
Love – you at almost 39 years old.