A Junkie’s Letter to His Mother

Dear Mother,
I hurt you over the years in ways many would think unimaginable; yet, still you sat smiling by my side after I stole, and in the end lied. Your heart is deeper and all the more forgiving than the perilous ocean. Your waves of love and raw emotion break over me in a docile fashion. I know nothing can divide us; a bond not so easily broken despite the years of hell so easily forgotten by me, but so hard to forget by you. I am a son undeserving of your love and affection, yet you watch over me like a lighthouse guiding ships home; likewise, I never stray too far with you caring so greatly about my life. The last time I overdosed, as I laid on the bare floor turning blue, eyes glued to the ceiling, hands clutching the carpet, mouth gasping for oxygen, you walked in, and I remember the dismay that painted your face. What a worthless, wretched disgrace I felt! These feelings aren’t pertinent when compared to a mother’s heart. You balled, wailed, and shook me like a rag doll trying to snap me back into reality – to consciously bring my mind back to consciousness. And all the other times I lost my mind like a young, reckless fool you still drove forty miles just to see a child trapped in a man’s body, and the innocence trapped behind psychotic eyes. You were unable to give up an old, lost soul. The kindness unmatched except by Jesus. Just as the sun fuels me, you are the wood to the fire, the candle in the darkness – in essence the gasoline in the car that will take me any place I choose; otherwise, I’d be going nowhere in no time, with no real time to go anywhere in my domesticated, rabid drug-haze. Without you I’ll smolder to ash – with you by my side I light the world with flames that lick the outskirts of places I’ve never been. You are my inspiration – the rock that keeps me from drifting away. Without you I am nothing; with you I have my hand out for everything, but everything is nothing if you hadn’t given it to me already. I love you is too meaningless a phrase . . . nothing can describe your tender way – I’ve scoured dictionaries and nothing comes to mind to which would encapsulate your being. I guess, all I can say without spilling my inadequate heart on the page, is that you mean the universe to me. As trivial, superficial, plain boring as it is, I love you to the moon and back with every particle of my seemingly translucent heart.

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