I know that this letter will never find it's way to you, but maybe, just maybe the message of it will somehow. Maybe it won't now, but maybe after it's all over, maybe then you will understand my words, my heart.
Maybe when you're in the space between the here and there, maybe when you're free of all that encumbered you in this life, maybe when the peace washes over you and the burden is lifted, maybe then you will know.
Know that I love you.
Know that I tried.
Know that I would have given anything for this all to be different.
Know that I did the best I could.
The last few years have been so hard for you, for us all. Looking back on it now, I know that things really were worse than I fully understood long before I had any real awareness of it. I know that you have always been a tortured soul.
I know that now.
For a long time, I tried to understand you. I tried to make sense of all that which could never be rational or reasonable. I tried because it was the only way I could comprehend it. I tried, and I failed.
For a long time, I tried to help you. I tried to fix you. I tried, and I failed.
I couldn't fix you because I couldn't do it, no matter how hard I tried.
I learned, with time, that it wasn't ever going to make sense, but not because you didn't want it to, but because you couldn't.
I couldn't help you because there wasn't anything I could do. It wasn't for lack of trying.
I had to let it go. I had to accept that I wouldn't understand. I had to accept that I couldn't change anything. I had to accept that I couldn't help.
I didn't want to.
I fought that acceptance with everything in me. For a very long time, I fought. Then I resigned myself to the truth I didn't want to believe.
I erected walls to keep me safe. I drew lines in the sand. I made boundaries. I had to protect myself. I had to insulate my babies. I had to.
I didn't want to.
You didn't understand. I didn't understand you and you didn't understand me, and not because either one of us wanted it this way. It just was this way, and we were both powerless to do anything about it.
The kids, they love you. They always have. They love you so much and they don't understand. They don't understand and I can't explain it to them because I don't understand. In the end though, none of that matters anymore. All that matters is that they love you and that you love them. They know your body is tired and worn out. They know that soon you won't feel pain anymore. They know that soon you will be with Grandpa. They know this. This brings them peace.
I love you, I always have. I wish, how I wish, things were different. That you were whole and healthy and happy. I wish that you had joy and love and peace. I wish, but I know that these wishes can't come true, not while you are here in this world. The only way that you can have any of those things now is that you need to let go.
It's okay, Mom.
We will be alright, we all will. You and Dad made us the people we are.
Go dance with him again. He's waiting.
We love you.
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