I know you think it’s insane that I’m writing you a letter. You probably think this is a joke, or some kind of mistake, but it isn’t. I just want you to know that I still think about you, but also that I’m not the same girl you left. Something big happened to me, Mom. Something huge.
Every single day, I worked my job answering phones, signing papers, licking envelopes… nothing ever changed. I’d go to work, come home, eat dinner, go to bed. I felt like I was going nowhere in life, and I know that if you were still living with me, you’d see it in my eyes. I started this habit of crying on the way home from work, and then stopping once I got inside. It was a release of all my worries, but it felt like it never really happened.
One day as I was coming home, I got really angry with everything. My life was a boring mess, and I wasn’t going anywhere. No husband, no career, no savings. Just trudging along through the mud of life. I slammed my fist into the steering wheel and sobbed.
I screamed, “If there is a God in this mess of a world, you better tell me now. You better show yourself to me in some way, because if there isn’t even a God here, I’m giving up.”
I waited. And I waited.
“If you don’t pop up and tell me you even exist, I am going to drive my car into something, maybe a telephone pole. I’ll say sayonara to this life.”
I waited. And something strange happened.
It started in my toes. It was a warm fire that bubbled up into my veins, past my knees, swirling around my hips, landing in my cheeks. The fire moved across my skin, enveloping my body in a warm tingle. It felt like I was being wrapped up by the sweetest, most comforting thing that had ever existed. My mind left my body and I looked at it in perspective. What a sad, sad mind it was.
And then the fire faded.
“What the hell was that,” I shouted in my car, tears staining my face.
It was silent.
“Who was that?”
It was silent.
“Was that,” I took a deep breath, “Was that God?”
The fire didn’t hesitate this time. It encompassed my whole body in warmth and comfort. The stains on my face were no longer tears of death, they were tears of life. I was so happy, I laughed out loud, Mom.
I hadn’t heard my jingle of a laugh for who knows how long.
Anyways, I just wanted you to know, as your daughter, that I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry for becoming this person that you couldn’t be proud of.
But here I am now, and I miss you more than ever. You can be proud of your daughter now.
I haven’t worked up the courage to go to a church yet, but now I know that a God exists.
And I know that’s what you tried to teach me my whole life.
Love, Your Daughter
P.S: I haven’t cried in my car for two weeks.
Tears dripped from my eyes onto the letter; I kissed it shut, and set it on her cold, hard gravestone.