You’re sitting next me waiting for the boarding of flight in the airport but I can only type it here. Please stop saying it’s your fault that you didn’t teach me enough, or it’s dad’s fault because he has abandoned us long ago. It’s more of mine as I’m already an adult. But you’re so emotional that I can barely talk to you. For some inadmissible reasons I guess I have built up a strong wall between us for a long time, willingly? not sure. Undeniably? definitely. Dear mommy, how I wish I could lean my head on your shoulder and I know you would call my name dearly and hold my hand, like the old times.
Last night when I was laying and pretending I was asleep, as always, you whispered and told me to go to your bed, and asked if I need another cover, as always, I answered coldly, No, as always. You have got used to care of me in the middle of the nights. I think you have also got used to it, knowing that I’ve grown to be a cold-hearted woman. That I always have secret outside world, that I always have sacrificed a lot for my friends but remained cold to my family. I remember those countless times during school days when I came home and cried because I was betrayed in school, you have advised me, “Live for yourself, not others.” The advice was never taken into consideration although I still remember in heart until today, because each time I get hurt I know you were right, so right. I know you love me deeply and long for the little girl could come back to you. All I’ve been doing often is to hurt you and break your heart.
Remember that night? Just like this painting here, I was so little for you, you were so big for me. In that dark dark dark night without any lights on in the house, we hugged for so long, so hard, so deep. You weeped in my small arms, I wondered in your big arms. It was a perfect timing because if I grew older I would have stopped the hug and asked, “Why are you crying, mommy?” but I didn’t. I just enjoyed the hug with you until you had your conscious back in and let go. In the weeping you were emotionally saying, “Daddy’s gone” repeatedly. I guess I woke up right after he left home from a fight, from us all.
You have the kindest soul in the world. And you have an opened heart to anyone who love but sadly and mostly to those who hurt you too. You crave for freedom from unbreakable boundary, you know you can’t do anything about it but you manage to remain strong and optimistic. I look up to you like all daughters to their mothers. I remember those old days, while I was always waited for you in the car, I searched all over from the front seat, I saw you enjoyed listening to Richard Clayderman’s music, something to imagine of your working life in those western restaurants and meeting all English bosses, chefs and guests. I learned that it calmed you down from your hectic and busy working life. Your warned me how important it was for not messing those works you brought home, those boring big accounting lined journals, long rulers, color pens, pen-erasers and calculators. I’m always your girl, I won’t messy up mommy’s work when she said so. Same to those times when you were crocheting, I enjoy sitting next to you quietly gazing at your hands, and the peachy yarns, your favourite world, peachy and lace. Something classic, optimistic, sunny and youthful. You are graceful and gentle, you are as graceful as an English lady in her puffy long skirt and huge hat with her long and pointy umbrella holding in one hand while she stands, or gently enjoy her coffee and doing the crochet hooks while she sits.
I’m such a coward, I guess I can never tell you how much I love you and admire you, or maybe you will never understand, or maybe I will never let you. I think you only expect a little from me. A little card in your mail box saying I love you, has brought you tears. Eleanor said, “Mom cried when she got your card”. I think that’s enough? I think that’s all we both can handle. My last letters to you were not responded so I guess you don’t understand them. Blame it to the time of the century. Blame it to your marriage. Blame it to the rapid change in the time of technology. I will just let it go, let you go. Mom, is that just me or is it the byproduct of the current cold world? I don’t have your kindness, forgiveness or tolerance to you, or to my child. I know it’s not your fault. You served your mom until her last breath, with no other thoughts of not to. Just like the way you serve Aunty Hermia, no matter how difficult it is, how awful she treated you, you would still serve her wholeheartedly. I asked you why, you said, “Seventy years of sisterhood, that’s why”. Why can’t I feel or desire the same? Would I treat you and Eleanor that way in your last days if I were still healthy? Why don’t you and Eleanor deserve to be treated that way from others, especially from me-someone both of you have been caring from your palms tenderly?
Most importantly, why are you still so kind and innocent to everyone and everything ? What do I do now? Mom. Would I become like you someday? But I don’t want to. I see your pain, loneliness and sorrow. I want to live a happier life. First and foremost I don’t want to stay in the marriage for the sake of a marriage just like you. I know you turned down the chef and he left because of you and you cried while you drove back home, I know you crave to be loved from other men just like everyone else. I want to give my child freedom that you could have given to me. I want to guide him an independent mind to seek for his own happiness, something that I’m still seeking for my own. I don’t want to expect anything from him, so that I don’t live in miserable like you have been expecting from us. Mom, how do I tell you all of these without breaking your heart? Who am I to try teaching you a lesson? Other than wishing you can figure it out in time, what else can I do for you, mommy. The more I try to make the opposite choice from yours, the more I realised I would end up exactly like you, or your choices seem better. I think I will too end up like you someday. I guess it’s not just you, it’s everyone’s fate. When we get older, we are more fragile and wanting more basic necessity emotionally. Just some little small things should suffice. That I should show you more love before too late.
I know I am doomed. I know I would get the exact same repayment from my child, the way I treat you. Therefore long ago I told myself that I have to let go of both of these relationship, that someday when he grew up to a fine gentleman and ‘too busy’ for me, when I have pain all over my body, nothing seem working, nothing seem right every day and night, I would not blame, weep, live in sorrow. I wish I could live independently without him emotionally and physically, that he would have his own family to take care of. But one thing I am sure, I would be regretting so much for not giving you more joy that you deserve from me and missing you so much more than how I miss you now.
With infinity of love.