You should know this.
Three years.
Three years. I had three years with you, mom. Three years where you watched me grow up, watched me smile, watched me cry. One time, when I fell down the stairs and cut my hand, and one time when I rode my bike to the dumpster and threw my pacifier in it because I was a “big girl” and didn’t need it anymore.
I didn’t notice, but everyone else did. I was so young that I didn’t even know that things like this happened.
Addiction.
To some it’s just a word, to me it cuts deep. Each day I grew up, my scenery changed, until it became permanent. I didn’t ask much about you because it was normal for you to not be around. I grew up so beautifully, mom. Brown eyes and bouncing curls, which I got from you. We missed you mom, and I know everyone prayed that you would stay clean before it was too late.
I don’t disagree when they say that addiction is a disease, and I don’t truly believe that you wanted to leave everyone behind. I am not mad, mom but I am so thankful. You didn’t get the easy help, you took it hard, I don't know how it all happened, but I’m thankful.
Even though you went through this, you were aware that I really shouldn’t have to and I know that it hurts you everyday.
You should know this, mom. I knew that you were sad, I knew that you kept growing more and more helpless. Addiction is depression and aching hurt, addiction is anger and constant torment. As I grew older, I hated the addiction, but I did not hate the addict. You made excuses, you changed, and you went away. But you were still my mom.
Mom, I am not mad. I am confused, I am thankful. 570,000 people die each year from drug addiction, but you made it through. The years that you missed while you were getting better will never be regained, but I do not expect you to pay a debt. Out of everything, I got my mom back. The excitement that I felt when I first saw you after several years of being gone will never compare. The few weekends I got to spend the night at your house, and the day you brought my baby sister into the world were some of the best days of my being.
You did it. You did what most could never do. You regained the strength to fight, and you got better. I am so proud of you. To look up at my graduation and see you sitting in the stands was one of the greatest blessings. You do everything in you power to make sure that your kids know that you love them, and you're doing a good job.
So no, mom, I am not mad. A few years without you will forever be better than a whole lifetime without you. I love you.
