Dear Mom,
I’ll start this off by saying that I do not waste my energy on thinking about this woman. We had a very short time together, so I cherish the small lessons you were able to give to me before your passing. One of those lessons was about how to apply my loyalty. Somehow, someway, I still remember the day you told me not to follow my friends around mindlessly after they had lead me astray and put me in a situation that made me incredibly uncomfortable. I think I was ten, but I could be wrong – still, I remember you telling me to be a leader. At the time, I didn’t know what you meant. I merely held onto those words because they were apart of the only vivid memories I’ve had of you. It took me a few years of practice to understand what you meant, and now I apply it as much as possible in order to protect my peace. So no, she is not an everyday figure on my mind whenever I think back to those days. As the years distanced me between the day you died and now, I find my memories have grown bitter as the people in them have since turned and stabbed me in my already deeply wounded back. Yet none of them stabbed as deeply as she did.
What kills me the most was that she was your closest friend. One of the few friends you entertained, as you took your job and your position as my mom very seriously – or at least, that’s how it looked like through my young eyes. As an adult now, I can only guess that most of your days being filled with novellas on the TV and paperwork for the building was your way of an escape. Ama’s death hit you harder than I had thought, but how was I suppose to know when she passed away long before I could retain any memory of her? I kind of wished you leaned on Absal. He may have been your kid, and she was our sister but he was still old enough to know how you felt. Hell, anyone would have been better than her as it didn’t take long for me to realize she kept you close for much of the same reason the rest of the kids in our building kept me close; you were the building manager. We had pool parties because you allowed it. We had block parties because you arranged them with the other managers in our neighborhood. If there was something that needed your approval to be done in the building, getting close to you was the best way, and I’m sure you were the only reason why her business was allowed to take over the newly renovated space on the first floor. Who doesn’t want to live above a hair salon in New York City? I, personally, would have preferred a grocery store.
She all but stopped doing hair when you died, and it became a gossip/hang out spot that hardly looked like it was making much to stay in business. It must have made you roll in your grave to learn that she conned her way into building management. Home wasn’t the same in more ways than one after your death.
I never spoke about the aftermath of your death to anyone. In passing, I’ve told close friends about how I arrived to your funeral with fire at my feet, and a whole lot of things to say to the room full of people who I haven’t seen since being diagnosed. Not a single one of them came over to help you with grandma, or took over taking me to my appointments so that you can have a day to decompress. Absal did what he could, most likely being the one taking grandma to her appointments while you were with me at mine. Meanwhile, they’re rolling into your funeral with wet eyes and so many things to say that didn’t end with an apology. I don’t even remember their names anymore, nor their faces and I’m better for it. I’m aware that you’re probably shaking your head, and lecturing me about holding a grudge – or rather, I think grandma would do that. No matter which of you would be upset with me, I stand by my feelings. I hope karma round-house kicked them in the face on their way to see you, and that they remain groveling at your feet wherever you are. You didn’t deserve to juggle all of this by yourself. Nobody does.
However the full force of my rage, and hate is completely reserved for her.
She took all your jewelry away from me. Even Ama’s. She robbed me of my home, took away anything that resembled my childhood and dumped the contents of our apartment into a large dumpster while I was away. Locked in a hospital not for my cancer or subsequential illness that might have come from treating it, but because I didn’t know what to make of my life without you. She didn’t care. She ripped apart our home, took any semblance of your physical memory away from me, and spent every dime that would have went to making sure I was taken care of until I was eighteen (or maybe older? I didn’t even know how much was set aside). Yet none of that hurt as much as losing photos of you. The ones I have sprinkled over these pages were shoveled out of the dumpster before it was taken away. In a whole building of people that knew us, there was only one person looking out for my memories of our family. I hope she is keeping you company. I have a few albums I keep tucked away in storage that I’ve been considering scanning in order to immortalize them.
That horrid woman reduced our family to a spot in the city dump, and that alone warrants the amount of hate I have towards her. The pain still feels so fresh, and deep. Infected by every action she took to bleed whatever you had given me dry. If it wasn’t for Absal, I would have lost everything. Unfortunately, the rest was for someone else to rip out of my hands. I wish I hadn’t been so foolish to trust so easily after having been betrayed in such a big way.
And to think that the next betrayal came from someone that called Ama her best friend. Makes me feel like everything I’ve suffered is just someone’s idea of a sick joke.
I hope that you can forgive Absal. I hope that you have forgiven yourself. Neither of you could have anticipated the sort of life that would be left for me after all this pain. It takes someone with really deep, and dark pessimism to have seen all this play out before it happened. Seeing as he hasn’t moved on in his life since your passing, it is safe to say that Absal would not have been able to handle a recently placed on remission teenager who lost her whole family in the span of a week – let alone after being told (by this guardian that stripped me of everything) that I was not worth the hassle of raising. Honestly, after losing Ama, I don’t think he knew how to be my big brother – which was fine. I wasn’t sure on how to be a little sister after all that. Their betrayal have no reflection on you. It has been a lesson I’ve learned over the years, and while I never blamed you from the beginning, I believe it best to remind you every once in a while. I know you had better intentions for my life, and the one I have, though safe, is not at all what you imagined for me.
I don’t think these letters to you are going to get light-hearted any time soon. I never realized just how much I had internalized over the years. Clearly I have much to talk about. Which shouldn’t surprise me. Life after your death seemed to only add to my battle through the inferno. Twenty years later, I still I find myself tiredly holding my shield for the next attack. Though it shames me to say that I think I have only gotten weaker as time has passed. I’m sure you hear me asking for your advice everyday. I really don’t know what I’m doing, and no amount of planning seems to be of any use.
What do I do?
Kind regards,
Sabey
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