sue.

when i was eight, my parents divorced.
eventually, i moved in with my dad and
my brother moved in with our mother.

"if you don't come back, i am going to
move far away."

she used to call me on saturdays and
tell me what a great time she and my
brother were having in florida.
eight-year-old me listened as she told me
how they played in the ocean all morning
after a breakfast of pancakes and hot chocolate.

i saw her when i was eleven.
leaving my dad and his new wife in maryland,
i spent the summer with sue and her boyfriend.
that is the summer that i first tried pot.
her boyfriend's oldest daughter, eighteen,
and i rolled the joints in our shared bedroom
and smoked them every day.
all day.

that fall,  i told her that i didn't want to stay
for the whole summer the following year.
i didn't hear from her again.
not one card. phone call. visit.
nothing.
she was angry with me.
i was dismissed completely.

years went by.
seven years.
middle school.
high school.
heartbreak and celebrations.
accomplishments and downfalls.

i contacted her when i was eighteen.
i drove to my grandmother's house to surprise her.
by the end of the day
"fuck off" was the last thing i said to her.
she replied with the same.

i tried again after my father died.
i was twenty-one.
and for eight strained years, we attempted
communication.
"have a nice life" was the last thing she said to me,
angry about the relationship i have with the woman who raised me.
she had only animosity towards the woman who took care of her daughter
and made sure she was loved.
"have a nice life."

that was almost twenty years ago.

i have often thought of writing to her.
asking for an explanation.
or calling her out on being selfish.
and hateful.
and fucked up.

i wanted her to know that i am doing everything
in my power to be the exact opposite of what she was to me.
that i love my child and am a good mother
regardless of the model she provided for me.

at almost-forty-eight, i wanted her to
acknowledge that she missed out
on all that i am.
i wanted her to know that i do have a nice life.
i am creative and am surrounded by amazing people
and have a fantastic child
that is part her.

have a nice life.

it crushes me to imagine
walking away from the chop
in the same way.



sue died one week ago.

while i was celebrating my son's seventh birthday,
she was in an emergency room.
in georgia.
she died before they could treat her.
she was 75.

in some crazy way,
i imagine her reading this
and having closure.
for both of us.