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Mother –
I miss the way you used to brush my hair when I was small. You stopped doing it when I got older, but sometimes I still wanted to ask you to, except that I was afraid that you’d scold me for being childish. I was always either too childish or trying to grow up too fast, and I was never sure which you really meant, but I think now that it was probably both, in different ways. I’m sorry that I disappointed you. I know that you loved me, but you probably deserved a better daughter. I’m sorry that I made you think that I loved Father more than you. I’m sorry that we barely talked near the end. I’m sorry that I didn’t try harder to understand you. I’m sorry that I didn’t want to listen to you at all. I miss talking to you.
I miss holding your hand when we went shopping, and always when crossing the street. I miss the way you smiled when I wore a dress that looked cute. I remember thinking that you were everything that I was supposed to be, and even if I don’t still feel that way now, I miss that too. I’m sorry that I wanted you to be perfect. I’m sorry that I wanted you to be more like me. I’m sorry that I couldn’t just see you for you.
You were always polite and you were always proper and you were always well-dressed and your hair was always in order and I used to be so sure that all of those things were easy for you, but now I’m not so sure that they were. It must have been very hard for you after Father died, to take care of me all on your own – especially when I never wanted to listen to you – and I’m sorry that I couldn’t see that. That I didn’t realize it until it was too late. I’m sorry that I was selfish. I’m sorry that I never tried to meet you halfway. I’m sorry that I took your presence for granted. I miss the smell of your perfume.
I’m sorry that I don’t know what your favorite color was. I’m sorry that I never asked what you’d wanted to be when you grew up. Was it always your dream to be a wife and a mother or did you ever want to be anything else? I know that you loved me, but were you happy with me? I know that I made you angry sometimes, but did I ever make you sad too? I hope that I didn’t. I’m sorry that I’ll never know.
And I know that you never once thought that you had anything to apologize for, but all the same: I forgive you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t convince you and I’m a little bit sorry I tried. I don’t think that I was wrong, but the distance between us was and I’m the one who made it. I’m sorry for that, too.
I wish I could hear your voice again, even if it's just to scold me about how I’m holding my teacup or the fact that I’m not trying to get married. I wish that you’d tell me to leave the military again even though we’d probably argue. I know it sounds strange, but I miss arguing with you too.
I wish that, when you were still here, I could have seen that you were trying your best. I wish that I’d noticed the way that you were always there for me. I wish that I’d paid more attention to how much, in your own way, you cared. I wish that we could have spoken the same language and I regret so much that I never bothered trying to learn yours.
I wish I could have saved you. I’m sorry that I wanted to put the Republic first. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you died. I’m so, so sorry that you were alone. You never looked afraid to me, but you must have been, sometimes, and especially at the end. I’m sorry for never seeing it. I’m sorry that I didn’t hug you enough when I had the chance.
I know you can’t read this, so I know you’ll never know how much I miss you and how sorry I am, but I hope that you still know that I love you too. That I never stopped loving you. That no disagreement could ever have changed that. It scares me so much to think that you might not have known. So, most of all, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you enough for it to be certain.
With Love Always,
Lena