My Best Friend!
So many years ago, seems like a lifetime, I had a best
friend. She was my youngest daughter,
Mallory. We talked every day, she was my
deepest confidant and I can’t say for certain I was hers, but she did confide
in me. She was protective of me and at
times seemed like she was my Mother, instead of the other way around.
The pending birth of her firstborn child (my first
grandchild) brought such excitement of her and I. I sent so many packages it was silly and
doted on her as only a grandmother can.
Our separation started when her child was born. Mistakes I made, things I did, things I said,
so many things went wrong that trip and it seemed like we never got it back.
I lost her on Christmas Day.
I wasn’t her Mother anymore you see.
I was dead to her. Over the years
I’ve tried to have contact with her, sent her messages, with horrible return
emails from her. I tried to find her
phone number on the internet, but she blocked me from everything she
could. Literally everything, even
Pinterest. I couldn’t believe it. How could it all go so wrong? How could I lose such a special and deeply
loved child? I think it would have been better
if she had died, because then I could find the closure, I needed to accept the
void now in my life.
I finally got in touch with her Mother-In-Law and we
exchanged messages back and forth for a short time. She told me some awful, horrible things about
my daughter that would make any mother scream inside and fall apart on the
outside. She told me things that I didn’t,
never, would accept. How her lifestyle
changed her into a woman I wouldn’t even recognize. However, this information also crept in me
that it was true, so I became so conflicted for many years.
I then learned something about myself and her too. I learned that regardless of what a child
does, as a parent (especially a mother) that child is priceless, a treasure
beyond measure. I learned about myself all
the reasons she was wanted. All the
reasons she was so loved. All the
reasons she was cherished and yes, of course, spoiled. I learned that she was an adult and
regardless of whether she was in my life or not, she was always in my heart and
I hoped that someday the door would open, and I’d be let in and healing would
begin.
I understand to heal, according to Webster Dictionary is:
A: to make free from
injury or disease: to make sound or
whole heal a wound
B: to cause (an undesirable condition) to be overcome:
mend the troubles … had not been forgotten, but they had been healed— William Power
C: to patch up or
correct (a breach or division)
All these surely apply. I
caused her injury, and if ever permitted her troubles would be mended. Her wounds patched up and corrected. Her wounds would heal to the best that they
can. For me, I can totally relate to some
of her pain and deep cuts in her soul.
She lost a son and that I can’t even fathom, but I do know if I ever
lost my own son my soul and body would be destroyed and going on would be so
very difficult.
However, the cuts I can relate to is her sexual abuse she
suffered as a toddler. I suffered my own
abuse from the age of 9-14. I remember
every second of my abuse, but her dreams and nightmares remind her of
hers. I know of how innocence is
lost. How you feel so worthless. That you feel ugly, vulnerable and frightened
ALL the time. I can relate to the cuts
you make on your own body to release the pain.
I, personally, have many scars from cutting myself to release the inner
agony that never went away.
I tried to commit suicide and she was the one who found me. I was in a seriously bad situation when she found
me and again, I can’t understand or relate to that sight, to that trauma caused
deep in her soul. All I can do is
apologize, deeply and sincerely.
Justifying it is wrong, so I’m not even going to try. However, I can explain, and I do believe she
has the intellect to understand such deep pain.
That doesn’t excuse the behavior though.
Later, in the years I didn’t intentionally leave her out, I
didn’t intend to ignore her or my granddaughter. I hurt her, I angered her, and my heart broke
into a million pieces that Christmas Day.
I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t scream, all I could do was cry.
Over the years I’ve missed watching my precious
granddaughter grow up, I missed my daughter most of all. Her brave honesty, her beauty, her
compassion, and her strength most of all.
She was always such a strong-willed child. At times, quite challenging, her strength
never wavered.
Raising her was a totally different experience from her
older brother and sister. I never made
the same mistakes as I did with them. I
doted on her, she was spoiled, she was so, so loved. This is not to say my other daughter and son
are not, of course. I waited 4 years to
have her, begged mercifully and when I finally got pregnant, I miscarried. I was deeply devastated, and the doctor told
me to wait to get pregnant again, but I didn’t listen. I got pregnant rather quickly after the
miscarriage.
I deeply wanted another girl and mainly wore pink while I
was pregnant, as if that would do any good. LOL. When she was born everyone in the family was
so excited and everyone knew she was the last.
Even her grandparents, who doted on her just as much as I did. Her older sister simply adored her and made
sure I take her for show-n-tell. She
couldn’t wait to get home to see her. I
honestly don’t remember much of a devotion from her brother, but I do know he
loved her so much.
She had/has a quick wit, is funny and could turn a dinner
conversation into milk flying out of people’s noses from her innocent
comments. She made family dinners so
delightful! She had to work hard in
school and moved around school’s way more than her siblings.
PLEASE do not get me wrong.
I dearly, deeply love all my children.
Maybe more now than I did when they were growing up. I’d say it’s a respectful love. You maybe know that raising a family,
especially one with financial difficulties is very hard. Trying to just stay above water, keep food on
the table and the heat on were daily struggles.
Their father and I each did what we had to do to keep our family
together and taken care of. We were
teenagers when we married, and our challenges were steep, and we were
challenged at every turn we took.
I have so many happy memories of all my children, but my
best friend and I have many that I want to share…. They are in no order.
I used to work for Kiwanis at their district office and one
of my duties was to go with them when they had conferences and
conventions. Each of my children had a
chance to go with me and when it was my best friends time we went to Snohomish,
WA. What a quaint area of Washington,
tucked away in a valley and known for their apples. We did quite a bit outside of my duties at
work and we toured the Applets and Cotlets factory. I have toured a lot of factories and one of
my things I do is say “Hmmmm” a lot and nod my head. My Best Friend found this either humorous or annoying,
maybe both because she nudged me and told me to stop. On this trip we did some fun shopping as
well.
Then there was the trip to Tillamook, Oregon. Just her and I. Again, we toured the plant/factory and based from the previous experience I tried to contain my understanding of what they were saying. Tillamook is on the coast of Oregon, but because of the cheese factory that makes the best cheese in the world (plus other yummy things) it has a lot of cows, which in turn has a lot of an odor. Each time we got out of the car she made a funny remark.
Unfortunately, her birthday and her brothers are only a day
a part and when she was a toddler it was easy to just focus on her brother. But when she and her brother, as well, were
older it became more of a challenge. Her
father and I tried to keep them separate and make each of them feel
special. She had birthday parties at a
skating rink, roller skating rink and at home.
I have happy pictures of her special day.
She had good friends.
Next door neighbors and her best friend from school, who she still may
be friends with, I don’t know. Her
grandma had her ears pierced when she was just 4 weeks old and they looked so
dainty and beautiful on her. She only
wore purple or pink, hair barrettes, headbands, bonnets and all the like.
She was always loud, but not the screaming type of
loud. She made herself known for
sure. She was the only child who
demanded attention. Maybe because I
treated her differently than her brother and sister. But, one thing I now cherish is every time
either her father and I came home, or I came home from work, she was ALWAYS the
first person at the door. Usually the
door was open. I found it annoying at
times when she was growing up, because I hadn’t even gotten out of the car and
there she was. Not giving me time to
adjust in being home from a long day at work.
But, now, it’s such a wonderful, powerful memory.
One of her other annoying habits, but now such a joy. Was her inept way of entering a movie
throughout the middle of the movie and asking a zillion questions as to what
was happening. In her later years her
father would change the channel to a sporting game and that cleared the room of
children rather quickly. A private joke
between the two of us. It worked each
and every time! 😊
She also never stopped moving. She never stopped talking. She never took much of a nap. She had to be in the thick of things all the
time. She never stopped loving!
She loved the holidays.
Halloween and mostly Christmas.
She loved most special events at school, such as dressing up in weird
and mismatched clothing as an example.
She never played an instrument, but I wonder now if she regrets that.
In closing, may I just say to you and to my youngest daughter, she is loved beyond measure. She is a treasure even though we've not been in touch for so many years. I've never stopped thinking of her, loving her, wishing for her return. I know I will never regain what we had before, but possibly communication will open, healing can begin, trust can be re-built, positive memories will come back.
I love you,
Mom
