July 1, 2025
Happy Birthmonth, Mom. I'm sorry I was never able to show you that I love you. That you couldn't believe me. I'm sorry I wasn't able to love you the way you wanted.
I hope you feel loved now. I hope you and Dad have been together, and that Dove, and Riker, all the ferrets... have been with you. Have you felt loved?
You are more loved than you ever knew.
I remember that night of the diagnosis. In the midst of words and terms forgotten and fears and trauma, our eyes met. You mouthed "I'm sorry." And I believed it.
For the first time, I felt like you meant those words. It felt like a brief blanket apology. Did you understand it wasn't the money or the niceties that living with you meant that I was afraid of losing? Do you know now how much a part of my life you were? If you had said "I love you", it wouldn't have meant as much.
In that moment, for just a second, I felt like you saw me. Not "me the projection of you" nor "me, the problem" nor "me the broken one," but like you saw me as me. For a second, a split second... I felt whole.
Thank you for that.
I love you.
Happy Birthmonth.