to the one who left
4:14 p.m.

Dear Mom,

I already wrote this by hand, but I figure you might get this quicker by e-mail. So I'm going to copy it into type, which is probably better anyway, since my handwriting deteriorates more each moment I sit with hands on keys.

In the spirit of a true academic, or writer, or whatever I am, I find myself wanting to write you a letter. Lately when I talk to you I find myself becoming upset, so maybe this is the best way to tell you about what I'm going through. I don't in any way mean to guilt trip you or make you feel bad, because you are my darling mom and I love and respect you. But your and dad's breakup affects me and my sister, even if we are adults. It's funny--when I talk to friends with divorced parents, they usually tell me it happened when they were children, so it was just a fact of life: part of the way the world was presented. I think it might actually be a little more difficult for adult children to get their heads around it, simply because our ideas about childhood are finished and done, and we certainly don't accept the way the world is presented to us (especially when we have gone through the liberal arts college system). Of course, our childhoods always continue to affect us, until we're wearing adult diapers and have come full circle. I have always been grateful and felt so blessed that I had a happy childhood full of love, laughter, friendship, wacky art projects, and good life lessons. Nothing that happens will ever change that.

In the past month I've been a total emotional wreck. Part of that is the normal grieving process one goes through when a 40-year relationship dissolves, and some of it is that I feel very distant from you. I know that you and I had a rocky relationship when I was younger, but I am so proud of the closeness we've cultivated in the last five years. You are a real inspiration to me--I'm always talking about my crazy mother who discovers new projects and passions each day. I only hope I'm as impressed by life at age sixty. But at the same time, your and dad's relationship has been a real inspiration to me too. Granted, no one can truly see any relationship from the point of the view of the people in it, but I don't think we kept too many things from each other, family-wise. A lot of my ideas about commitment and love have stemmed from the fact that I am a product of a happy marriage. I always thought that you and dad complemented each other well, and I am awestruck by the lives you led together before you had me. Again, I'm not telling you this to make you feel guilty, but maybe make you understand why this upsets me so much.

I'm not a hopeless romantic, but there have been two relationships I've witnessed that have made me imagine what I want in a partner. One of those couples was Ben and Charlotte. I was absolutely devastated when Ben died, both because he was such an amazing person and also because it was the death of (what I saw as) a real true love and partnership. The other couple was you and Dad. I know that you had problems, but you guys were such amazing parents and (this might seem frivolous, but in fact I mean it with the deepest respect) the Bert and Ernie kind of partners. To me, you filled in each other's gaps.

But we all create our own realities, and now I'm trying to deal with the fact that everything was not as perfect as I thought. I know that you don't want this to influence my sister's or my relationships, but it does. Again, I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad, but just so that you know a little about what I'm going through. After all, I'm half you, half dad.

I guess I'll close by saying that the one thing this has been teaching me is that it's incredibly important to be emotionally honest with the people you love. Love, friendship, family, and even sex are all based on open communication. I've had problems with this in the past because I've felt that in order to be a strong person, you have to internalize certain feelings. Honesty can make a person vulnerable, and vulnerability can be misinterpreted as powerlessness. But there is also incredible strength in opening yourself up to people. The lifelong friends I've made have been based on that. I hope you'll think about that as you go through this process. It's a big deal, and you do have people who love you. It's so much easier to open up than to keep it all inside.

I have an appointment to see a counselor in the next few weeks, and I hope I'm not being presumptuous by suggesting you do the same. Even though leaving was your choice, it's still awfully difficult. I know that we'll be fine, but please don't forget that I love you, and we need to go through this together, if it all possible. Let me know what you're going through. I love you.

love,

me

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