a·mends (noun): to compensate or make up for a wrongdoing.
Amends in 12-step work are about a genuine change in our behavior instead of the patchwork of an apology ~ John MacDougall
Dear Mom,
I am doing Step Nine in Al-Anon and part of the steps in the program is to make amends. This letter is my amends to you. I am hoping that even though I probably won’t ever be able to read it to you and you will never see it that you will know in your heart my words are true by my actions.
There were many things I did as a kid that were not very kind. I believe much of it was just the silliness of my teenage years and my insecurities. I certainly didn’t give you enough credit when I was a teen for how hard you were working and how much you struggled. I thought you were quiet, closed-off and judgmental, but I think now, looking back, that you were buried under the weight of your concerns and pains and so you weren’t closed-off and harsh, so much as treading water.
I am glad I had the experience as a young mother raising kids on my own so that I could look back at your life and see the similarities. I am sorry for any blame I put on you for my life’s troubles. I didn’t understand it back then. I do now.
What I am most sincerely sorry for is spending so much of my adulthood distancing myself purposefully from you. I allowed my life with you when I was a kid to influence my adulthood image of you, and I didn’t give you a chance. I didn’t get to know you. I joined you and my sister together when the shit hit the fan, and I ignored you and her when it would have been better if I’d talked to you to see how you were feeling. So much of the time, I thought you and she were of one mind and acted together in unison and I didn’t see you as an individual. I didn’t see your hurt or sadness when I stopped talking to you for something she did. It was so wrong of me.
When I was getting divorced in 2005, and I came to live with you, I told you everything that was going on in my marriage; the abuse, the lies, and all the hidden parts. I had lied to you for years. I lied to everyone for years. I felt like the relationship we developed in those months that I lived with you was so good. We talked, we laughed, we cried, we argued, but were able to apologize openly. You stood by me through every court hearing, and we even canceled our Ireland trip because of a court date I had. I deeply regret that we never got to go to Ireland together.
I feel like that relationship we built in 2005 and onward was our truest relationship. I didn’t know it at the time, and I didn’t know anything about step nine, but I feel comforted knowing we had that time to mend our troubles.
I am so grateful for it now because in just a few short years later you had your brain hemorrhage and now you have Alzheimer’s. Those few years we were our truest selves with each other. We had a good mother-daughter relationship as adults. We made that happen together.
And now I get the experience of being there for you every day, no matter what, with no judgment. I’m not perfect at it, but I do sincerely try. I don’t know if you feel I needed to apologize for anything or make amends, but my visits with you now, when you need me the most are my living amends. I would do this for you even if I weren’t in Al-Anon. You took care of us when we were kids, you sacrificed your life, your career, your happiness, and probably your sanity taking care of us and making sure we had what we needed. It is the least I can do to be here for you now when you need me.
I can see the woman you were, the life you lived, how you grew up as the daughter of a daughter of an alcoholic. I can see your pain and your confusion, and I know that you love me. I doubted it, but I should not have. Not ever. Your love for me was just faded by the disease of alcoholism as my love was for you.
I write this knowing I cannot read it to you now. Perhaps I can someday, but for now, I will save this letter and feel it in my heart in the hopes that you can feel it too.
I am so proud to call you my mother. I am so grateful for your sacrifice. I am so sorry you have this horrible disease. My love for you grows stronger every day. Your bravery, even though you don’t know you are brave, is an inspiration. You are loved, and you are cared for, and I will be here caring for you as long as you need me.
I am currently raising money for the Portland, Oregon Walk to End Alzheimer’s in August 2018. I raised almost $900 last year and this year my goal is at least $1000. This badge tells you where I am at right now in my efforts. If you feel so inclined, please donate. Thanks.