A letter to Marion Foster, my mom, on the 20th anniversary of her death

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Hi, Mom...

Man, I could use a hug from you.  

I'm struggling now, though look how far I got before I fell into troubled times!  I want to thank you.

I think I was your young man from an early age.  I recall you had a miscarriage when I was just five, and on your directions I ran across the street to enlist Ms Washburn (?).  Soon ambulances arrived and all was well.  Is that true?

Did you think I was a good child? Do you still think that?  I hope you were proud of me.  Mature and self-sufficient for my age?  I sensed that I pleased you as a kid but I don't know all these years later... 

As I said, I'm struggling...my mental health has been terrible recently, filled with anxiety and sadness that ruins all the good stuff.  I drink more than I want, and did coke for awhile to self-medicate.  I don't like myself many many days, and I haven't had a relationship or partner for over 30 months (probably way longer but I didn't notice).  I'm lonely at a level I did not know was possible.  

I'm still your son David.  I take care of others before myself, often damaging myself in the process.

I'm 69 years old (I know--I outlived you 18 days ago--I'll try to keep going and never forget what you gave me).  I'm lost.  I don't have a clue what to do next, or where I'll be living.  I can only help Glenn by telling him I love him.  That's all I have, plus some money.  He's strong.  A survivor.  He amazes me, through his bipolar displacement.

I'm a lot like Glenn now.  Manic about my situation.  Depressed about my situation when the mania stops. Your two children are still alive and increasingly similar.

I wonder about you and the favor I'd value is to better know you now.  Better than I was capable of when the four of us once shared the same roof. 

You were nineteen on the day of my birth.  You left your parent's home five days after you delivered me (having left UCONN engineering school).  

Mom:  where your certain?  Were you afraid?  You left me the "bread crumb" trail of your daily letters to Dad.  The gift you gave me the day you discovered you were pregnant (in the 5th month???) is the biggest gift a mother ever gave a child.  Do you remember what you wrote to the man you eloped with seven days later in Indiana?

Here's what you wrote that October afternoon in 1954:

"Allan, we are going to have the best baby in the world."

Who were you then, that you had that courage, and optimism, and willingness to wrap your arms around whatever life threw at you?  I am breathless and in awe of the 19 year old mother-to-be.  The woman who would soon be my mother.  And Dad.  The two of you.  I am a good man because you were an exceptional woman.  

I tried not to ask you for many favors...for reasons I don't understand, I just wanted to please you and Dad.  I suffer so much now because I only learned three years ago that there are people who simply refuse to be pleased because they don't care if others suffer.  

You would not like these people either, I know.  (Glenn continues to be targeted by bullies--the trash of the human universe.  You consciously protected him so that he could find moments of peace and safety as he found his path, right?  Without you, both my brother and my father became a bit rudderless.  Dad in a beautiful way that I loved. Glenn in a rugged way.  I could not protect Glenn as you did, but I've stayed with him.  I send him money twice a month.  I answer his texts even when they make no sense.)

It may not make sense but here's how I honor you every second and every minute of every day.

  • I kept being your good son, even after you were gone.  
  • I keep trying to please you, even now.  That's why I'm writing to you.
  • When people hurt me, I turn it on myself, because I still want to please you.  When I fail, which is rare, I abuse myself.  
I don't know where I'll be next.  I have no family.  No kids. I have no heirs!  

But I think I can go on if you can do me one favor now.  Would you consider it?  

Would you let me know somehow that you still love me, and that you're still proud of me?  

Would you share with me now, all these years later, whether you were ever sad?  Did you ever suffer?  Were you uncertain and perhaps afraid, like I am now?

I feel like we have so much in common still, and I love you more than ever.

 

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