Dear Mom,
Have you ever stopped to think about the messages you were sending us as you ushered us off to bed during the golden hours of those long summer afternoons in South Florida? While we settled in for the night, you would head out to meet your friends for your daily drinks. The signals you were sending, whether you realized it or not, were as vivid as the bright sunshine filling our home: “The drinks hold more significance to me than your father, your siblings, or even you. I prefer to spend my time with them rather than nurturing our relationships, listening to your dreams, or simply being present.”
I often imagined you turning back, bursting through my door, and declaring, “Not today! Today, I want to hear about your aspirations, your fears, and the girl you lost. I want to connect with your heart, understand your creativity, and share in whatever brings you joy.” I longed for you to say, “Let’s do something together—catch a movie, share a pizza, or even go bowling, despite my lack of skill. I want to be there for you.”
I understand now that alcoholism is a complex issue, one that likely began as a coping mechanism for your own struggles and evolved into a challenge that requires tremendous effort to overcome. Yet, I also recognize that the first step needed to come from you. You had to choose to prioritize something or someone above that next drink.
Mom, you had the potential to transform your pain into growth. Instead of hiding from the voids within, you could have embraced them, filling your life with dreams, genuine connections, and the joy of helping others. Your journey could have been an inspiring example for us, showing that from brokenness can come beauty and strength.
I still ponder why you never took that crucial first step. Why did you never acknowledge your struggles, let alone seek help? I believe Dad would have supported you without hesitation if it meant having you back fully. Most of all, I still wonder why, after all the pain, you never once expressed regret. I offered you every opportunity to do so, right up until your last moments, and yet I was left with a lingering question: Why couldn’t you see that you were worthy of love? Why weren’t we enough for you? Why wasn’t I enough?
Your Middle Son
P.S. It has taken me time to fill in the gaps, and honestly, I still have my own healing to do. But all things considered, I believe you would be mostly proud of who I’ve become. Parenting is not a perfect science, and many of us yearn for second chances. However, instead of focusing on “do-overs,” let’s concentrate on “doing now.” For you, this means reflecting on whether your choices truly show your children how to navigate life’s challenges. For me, it’s finding the strength to forgive and turning the pain of our past into a force for positive change, not just for myself but for those who rely on me.
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Summary
This letter expresses a son’s heartfelt reflections on his mother’s struggle with alcoholism, highlighting the emotional impact of her choices on their family. It emphasizes the importance of seeking help and the potential for healing, while also encouraging a focus on present actions rather than dwelling on the past.