Letter to my younger self

Dear Millie

It’s been a while since I’ve thought of you or talked to you.  You seem so far from me.  I barely remember you.  Glimpses of a smiling little girl pop through but quickly vanish.  I have flashes of the innocent child you were.  I remember the joy we felt when we found money in the hallway and Mami was so happy.  That day we had pizza and pineapple soda.  That little bit of money brought so much happiness on that day.  I remember waking up early during the summers and going outside to play with Lemonuel because the street was closed and we would ride our bikes up and down the street.  I remember being the only girl invited to his party and wearing Mimi’s dress because her clothes were always in better condition than mine.  Memories of being in kindergarten and crying because someone said they didnt want to be my friend.  Even at the young age of 5, wanting to be liked was vital.  Who would you have become if that monster had not violated you?  

It’s not your fault.  It never was.  He took advantage of your good heart and your good nature.  He knew that if he offered you money for helping him, you would.  You always had such a good heart and wanted to help in anyway you could.  And a suitcase full of money?  SOLD.  If $20 made everyone happy, imagine what a suitcase full of money would do.  

You knew that you should not have gone with him because she always warned us not to talk to strangers.  You knew what rape was because of what happened to Rosa.  But this wasn’t really talking to strangers.  This was helping someone who needed help with his mother.  And he was going to pay.  This would be ok. 

At 7 years old, there’s no way you could have known what would have happened.  No matter how much you think you should have, you couldn’t have.  You weren’t fully mentally developed yet.  That asshole lied to you when he told you that this is why you shouldn’t talk to strangers.  He made you believe that it was your fault.  After all, hadn’t she told you that repeatedly?  But I’m telling you that you hold no blame or fault in what happened.  You have to forgive yourself.  

Also, the sexual assault was not the reason Mami started doing drugs. She had already started down the path before  you were attacked.  She tried to protect you by making sure that you didnt have to go back to that neighborhood.  But she had already been abusing drugs.  You were not the reason for that.  

I promise not to lock you up in my memory.  I will think about you more.  I want you to see that even though we have been through some shit, we are doing ok.  We are strong.  We are smart.  

I love you little one and I will continue to work on dropping the burden of feeling at fault.  Let’s see if we can free you from the bondage of guilt and shame.

Cheated

“I miss my mom.”   I can’t count how often that single phrase has ran through my mind.   I could be in the middle of the most mundane of tasks, such as cleaning and all of a sudden, I’m missing someone I haven’t seen in over 30 years.  For all of this time, I really only allowed myself to think of my mom in May.  During the month of May, I would allow thoughts of the woman who not only gave birth to me but also raised me for the first 10 1/2 years of my life.  I gave myself permission to miss her and think of her.   It’s not that I didn’t want to think of her, it was too painful to think of her.   There was too much pain, anger, and confusion.  Where was she?  I hope she got off drugs.  If she got off drugs, why hadn’t she looked for us?  She’s living her life and I am going to live mine.  I never doubted that she loved me but still I was angry with her.  Where was she?  When thoughts of her crept up throughout the years,  I shoved them down. 

Finding out that she didn’t walk away but was taken away has caused some of the same feelings: pain, anger and confusion.  Pain that I will never see her again. The hope was snuffed out with that one confirmation.  Anger that she was brutally murdered and unnamed for over 30 years. Confusion because now I have to reconcile the anger I felt for 30+ years at her absence.   Now when thoughts of her creep up, I can’t shove them down.  Immediately I remember that she’s gone.  When I am asked where my mom is, I can no longer say, “I don’t know.  No one has seen in over 30 years.”  Now the answer is, “oh she was murdered 33 years ago but we just learned about it.”  

Since finding out, I’ve also felt cheated.  My family and I have been cheated on so many levels.  We were cheated of having her in our lives today.  She was taken before any of her kids became adults.  She never got to meet any of her grandkids or great grandkids.  They would never know the amazing, caring and loving woman she was. They would never hear her signature whistle or experience the brilliance of her smile.  I would never again feel her arms embrace me or hear her tell me she loves me.  I would never get to tell her how much I love her.

We were also cheated on justice for her.  The likelihood of finding out who murdered her is almost slim to none after all this time.  Maybe if we had known what had happened to her when it happened, the cops could have interviewed people who knew her or that area and get some leads.  But that wasn’t done.  Her case was discarded as carelessly as she was.  We will most likely never know who did this or why.

I also feel cheated on grieving.  I feel the grief of knowing she’s really gone but it was 33 years ago.  I don’t even know how to grieve the woman who I loved with all of my being.  Ive spent so long trying not to think about her to avoid the pain of not knowing where she was.   I know where she is now and I have to catch up with 33 years of grief.

I missed my mom for the last 33 years and I will miss her for the rest of my life.