Moment of Grief

Sometimes I get so sad. You pop into my mind and I just start crying. Like now. I’m reading a book about how to draw birds. We are at our cabin. Your dad is trying to fix a hose line. Your siblings are inside playing a video game together. It's so beautiful and peaceful in the mountains. The aspens are such a lovely green and the side reflecting the sun right now is like heavenly light. It's glorious. Yet my thoughts turn to you and the sadness I feel. I’m wishing you loved this. Loved us. And then I get down on myself. Try to understand why you hate me. I still don’t know why. I’ve always struggled with my self-esteem so it’s not hard for me to get to a dark place about myself and why my eldest daughter hates me so.

But just now I tried to read again and I thought, no, I like me. I like that I like this book. I love that I notice nature. I like that I’m thoughtful and artistic. I like that I enjoy playing games. I’m fun. I’m funny. I’ve been a really good mom. I like me. And it made me sad for you. You left a beautiful family. A beautiful life. You could come back. I’d forgive so fast. You wouldn’t even have to ask. It’s been nine months since you said, “I’m trans,” and left without a goodbye. You swiftly blocked us out of your life. And right now I feel that it’s you who is missing out and I feel bad for you. For whoever becomes your family that you and they also don’t get us.