Mirror Mirror

Introspection — what better way to start a week.

Mother’s Day is this Sunday. It can be a very hard day for so many of us.

The question today: If you had to write a letter to your mother, what would it say? Below is an open letter to my mom.

Dear Mother:

I hope you open this letter, make a cup of tea and take a seat on your front stoop and prepare your heart to listen. If you do not have time for my truth, fold the letter up and put it away.

You placed a sword between us from the moment you conceived me. By your own admission, I was the child you wanted the least. You made sure I paid for that. Your hatred for me started then and it still brews.

I have been gracious to you through the years. Withholding strong judgment against you, I held the territory for you that you did the best you could. That’s simply not true. You did what you wanted to do and it wasn’t favorable for me. You had your favorites and I was not one of them.

I am grateful for that now. Your favorites are still close to you and I see the great price they pay for that relationship.

I am over asking why. I thought I would share with you what it felt like to be on this side of you.

You looked like hate. Your mouth twisted with words that tore me down. If I came to you with any wound, you shunned me. The day you took the other kids with you shopping and left me home alone, you knew we had just buried that woman down the hill. I was terrified when you left me alone, on that property, for hours that day. It was so cruel.

It took me half of my life to understand it all had nothing to do with me. You must have been cursed as a child. You carry darkness with you and it breeds nothing but misery. If I had done to one of my children what you did to me, I wouldn’t want anybody to know about it either.

I have outlived it all now. The deviant that you are no longer holds a place in me. Your disguising, vile nature was not hidden from me.

You and dad’s sexual abuse with me began before we left Delaware Lane. A small child of three without a chance. It continued into my teen years. A pedophile hidden behind the disguise of a mother.

You have done nothing in my life to help me. Your words are full of mockery. You are fully aware that dad murdered that woman. You knew everything about him — you idolized him. You knew he and Craig molested us children.

You not only allowed it, you covered it up. That makes you complicit. You don’t get to go through life without hearing those words. You were not an innocent bystander as you proclaim. You mandated that you were there, I remember. I watched you. Your hatred could be lived out through his dishonorable actions. You shared everything with him.

You are guilty of murder, just as he is. You were not in the room with us, but you hid it all, even to this day you withhold good.

It’s all murder, mom. Taking innocence from your children, grooming them to be sons of hell like you.

I am all done now. I need nothing from you. Not love. Not acceptance.

What you could do before you die is help the woman that dad killed. You know. You are a witness to that time. You had to help cover it up because he was admitted to the hospital for a week as soon as we came home from burying her. It is impossible that you did not help with his alibi. You even lied on the hospital records in 1968.

You are right — the time is going by much faster for you now. Do yourself a favor and make something right before you die. God will hold you accountable.

I pray mercy for your soul.

Jodie

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