A letter to my mother
Dear Mom, Twenty-seven years ago today, I lost you. As trite as it is to say so, it is hard to believe that many years have passed. Now that I have a daughter, I have a different kind of context for understanding that day, and what happened before, and what came after. I know now that children who experience trauma tend to get stuck at the ages of that trauma, to return to old coping mechanisms they used at that time when things get hard, to view the world always through the lenses of that trauma. And sometimes I still feel, at 40, like that 13 year old girl who pushed her way through to the office that had turned into a makeshift sick room and demanded to know where you were. The one who, the night before, wanted to see you--had to see you--so she pushed her way in and held your hand and realized for the first time when you opened your eyes and tried to focus on her and couldn't that you were definitely going to die--and that you were profoundly sorry. But I'm writing to tell ...