Seven years ago, you got up and walked away. To this day, the reason is unknown. I was ten years old when you left. I was starting to shape into an individual, my own person, and there's nothing I wished more than to have you there to help me during that time.

You weren't there. Every day that you aren't here, helping me through life, I become more and more disappointed. People say times heal wounds like this, but I don't believe that's true. Time teaches you to live without people, but it never heals. Mothers are supposed to be in their children's lives. You were, for ten years. However, when you were in my life, you weren't a "mother figure." You were always half here, half gone: you were never mentally nor emotionally attached to me. Regardless, I'd rather have a mother that is only here part-time than not at all. During the times I needed you most, you were nowhere to be found.

I want to believe that drugs are the reason that you left. Even though it's the most logical excuse, it means that you chose to leave your two beautiful and loving daughters for something so little. After a year of denial, I stepped up and raised your youngest daughter for you. The whole time, for seven years straight, the only thing I could think was "you should be here."

I have been through close to everything by myself due to your absence. Heartbreak, school functions, work, but most importantly: I picked myself up and carried on with my life both times I was cheated on, even when I didn't want to. I laid in bed for weeks and felt a pain I have never experienced, nor would I want to ever again. I needed you the most during that time. Every day you aren't here, I feel a certain type of heartbreak. I still have a small piece of hope that one day you will walk through the door, sober, sane, and ready to be a mother again.

Overall, I want to thank you. With your absence, you have made me into a strong, caring woman. I wasn't given that mother-daughter bond with you, but I do know that I'll receive it when I finally have a child of my own. By leaving, you will make me a kick-ass mother.

Seven years ago I lost my mother. However, seven years ago, I also became strong as ever. I have hurt, but I have also learned to heal.