Thursday, July 20, 2006

 

Sick and tired

I know you've been depressed for the last 50 years. I know you're married to a man whom you deeply care for but who'll never be able to really communicate, and this kills you with frustration. I know you've done amazing great things during the last 2 years and now you're much more indipendent than you've ever been in all your life, though tired to your bones..
I know you're worried for me and Kee, for our jobs that seem to fly away with the wind just when we start to rely on them... and I know that this sometimes keeps you awake at night.

I know all about you. And I've always silently understood, as I've always been the Sensible One. Never complaining, never arguing. I've always loved you. Much more so, when you didn't even look down at me.

I know you've understood so so many of the mistakes you've made, and you really want to make things up for us all.

So why on earth do you keep on answering the phone with that gloomy voice, as if you were going to exhale your last breath?
Why do you always wait for me to call you, instead of calling me sometimes?
Why can't you listen to the sound of your voice and realize how much you hurt us with that anguish? Why can't you see how hard we had to fight against your pain, before it became *our* pain? Why, oh Lord, why does your personal blues have to be deeper and harder than any other's? Can't you see where this all has taken us?
Why can't you ONCE IN A WHILE put your sadness aside and just take a look at your children?

Share your beauty and love with us while you're still here on this earth, don't make us longer for a smile. You know how it feels when death takes away your chance of being a daughter anymore. And you know that until you know what it feels being a daughter - and stop being a child - you're not ready to be a mom.. And I wanna be a darn good mom.. sooner or later..

I know me and Kee are both in our thirties, and maybe you think we don't need you anymore but we do, we haven't ever had you when we were kids. Too many silent mornings, too many relatives to play with, so you could rest in the shadow of those endless afternoons.

You're our mom. Yours is the only job one cannot retire from.

I wish this could be enough for you to start, at least.

Comments:
incredibile.....pare che le mamme disilluse dalla vita siano più di quelle che pensavo.....stessi atteggiamenti,stesse telefonate con voci tristi e malate da ascoltare...stesse tristezze.....good grief, i don't derserve it...
 
Nobody deserves it, mio caro... nemmeno le povere mamme disilluse, in realtà... però ogni tanto se non mi sfogo finisco col farle delle partacce che la metà basterebbe, ergo w il blog che mi consente di essere una figlia degenere senza che nessuno ci rimanga male!!!

A si biri mellusu
 
That's really sad. A mom is so important; you can't ever quit or retire, as you said. Even when a mom is gone, the kids still need her.

I hope things get better.
 
Thankyou for sharing - I would like to write the same letter to my Mum. But I don't think she would even understand.
 
Hi Phi, back again after a long long time....and the first thing I read was your blog...just to discover that...we're sharing the same problem with different beginning...To have a mother who seems to live the sadness as a way of life...And to have a mother who lives around your father and doesn't seem to know that MY SISTERS AND I ARE HER CHILDREN and the world is not only the person you're married with...
In the end...in our thirties.. we just have one chance...to forget,to go further and to live the pain of having missed something important.
 
Mari, it's so so nice to have you back! I was wondering where you were.. Thanks for stopping by and sharing your feelings. I DO appreciate. Thank you so much.
 
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