This was written in writing group January 9. Another piece of unfinished business.
Dear Mom,
I’m writing to tell you I’m sorry I always acted so angrily when you were drunk. I had no idea what you were up against. Even now, I can only guess. But I don’t think Granny was a very good mother and I have no idea what your childhood was like. Aunt Carolyn coming along when you were two might have been difficult. I had a friend who, when she had her second child, was careful to explain to the first child that they would not be replaced. She told me just saying “I’m bringing home a new baby” would be like telling your husband you would be bringing home another husband. So you may have been unhappy to have a younger sister. I know you and Aunt Carolyn didn’t get along very well.
I wonder what it was like for you when Uncle Jesse died. He was younger than you & Carolyn, and I remember you saying he was your little boy and you liked to dress and undress him. We live in a culture that doesn’t support grief, so you probably didn’t let yourself grieve after his death. Not grieving can be one cause of depression.
When I finally got on anti-depressant medication that worked, Char, who was helping me, asked if you got nasty when you were drunk. I said yes, and Char said “She’s medicating depression.” Well, Mom, I lived with severe depression for years, and it’s pretty awful. If alcohol had worked for me, I might have become an alcoholic. I remember one week when I drank a six pack of beer several days in a row. But instead of getting comfortably drunk, I would start feeling headachey and nauseous, and would have a king-size hangover in the morning. So I didn’t have the right physiology to become an alcoholic.
After Daddy’s funeral, you got drunk and I was angry and nasty about it. But the next night, for some reason, I was able to be kind. The next morning, you were sober. You said “I’ve made a decision. I’m going to be OK.” I asked “What decision?” But you just said “That nasty person won’t be around any more.” We went out to dinner with some friends and when they asked what you wanted to drink, you said “Water on the rocks.” I was so proud of you. I wish I had told you so. In fact I didn’t realize that my being so kind to you that night might have helped you. I didn’t see it until many years later.
I don’t think you would have been able to stay sober without some help, an AA meeting or a therapist, and you were highly unlikely to ask for help. But I wish I had been able to go on being kind.
love, Jenny
For an earlier take on unfinished business with Mom.