The Letter..., Part Two

My mother and I discussed the contents of what I wrote yesterday in depth when I got home from the grave site. I cried on her, blamed her, told her it wasn't her fault, and went back to resenting her all over again. My emotional age was five and I was all over the place. I felt betrayed and hurt and I shouldn't have.
I'd like to state for the record that in this particular instance, I truly believe my mother had no idea what to do when she figured out what Nanny started. Who would? At the time, all of my tears and anguish were gone, *poof*, because I thought Pap was doing the impossible. I was happy. 
It's no secret that my mother and I have had a tumultuous relationship while I was growing up, and that's being kind about it. There was a time when we hated the hell out of each other, resented each other's presence. Luckily we've both matured since then and we have the bond we should have had when I was younger. 
In my eyes the fact that she told me the truth when I needed it most (despite what she knew the aftermath would be), showed me just how much she loved me. She didn't want all of it to start to begin with, but she was there to try and pick up the pieces when it was all over. Unfortunately, I never gave her that chance. In my child mind I put Nanny and my mother in a cage together and felt equally betrayed by both of them. If my memory serves me, I wouldn't talk to her about it at all unless I was yelling at her. She never deserved that. She still carries so much guilt from that incident alone that it makes me sad for her. She did the best she could. Just this morning I received an email from her reminding me how much she loves me, how sorry she is, and asking me if there is anything she could do. She shouldn't have to apologize anymore. I should. I put her through the ringer, so to speak, since my first breath. I was a challenge from the beginning and she deserves a break. 
So, Mom. I love you. I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do for YOU? 


xo