Letters to my Mother

Letters to my Mother

A Story by Anthony C.
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A man's letters to his mother. Please read the Author's note at the bottom!!

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September 23, 2011

 

Hi Mom. I just thought since you don’t get telephone calls, I could write to you. I know we haven’t talked a lot lately. I have been busy with school and other things going on. It’s really cool down here; you’d love it. It is always warm and there is almost always a cool breeze. There are palm trees everywhere and the sun is always shining. On weekends my friends and I go down to the beach, and it is only a few blocks from campus. Down there, at the beach, is the only place I can really relax. The sand between my toes and the sound of waves crashing and seagulls gawking comforts me like you use to when I was a kid. School is okay too. My professors are all really nice and the classes are interesting. I like the freedom we have here, too. It’s nice being able to sleep in and make my own schedule. I miss you a lot though. I wish I could visit you more often but ever since you moved… it’s harder to talk to you. I hope your doing okay; I do miss you a lot.

 

Sincerely,

            Thomas

 

 

September 29, 2011

 

            Hi Mom. I am really starting to like school here. My favorite class is English. The professor is great and the course is interesting. It even got me started on writing again. Whenever I write I think about you, and how happy it made you to see me sitting at the kitchen table scribbling away on those yellow notepads you use to buy me. I imagine that you will smile when you read this. Some nights I just stay up throughout the night just writing a poem, throwing it out, re-writing it, and throwing it out again until I get it perfect. I am working on a poem right now that I think could be good when it is done. When I finish it, I will send it to you in another letter. My roommate is a writer too. His name is Phillip. He writes all day and he usually doesn’t go to classes, but he is a good kid. He is good at writing and helps me fix some of my poetry. Phillip is kind of misunderstood. He grew up in an orphanage because his parents didn’t want him. He is generally quiet until you really get to know him, but people mistake that for being weird. He is not weird, just shy, sort of like I was. I miss you mom.

 

            Sincerely,

                        Thomas

 

 

October 10, 2011

 

            Hi Mom. Usually, where we are from, it is getting cold around this time. But here it still feels like summer. I imagine it is warm where you are too, it must be. I am still working on that poem, but I am sort of at a Writer’s Block. I know you use to teach me that everything I need to write is in my head, but as soon as my pen touches the notepad my brain goes blank. I am not getting much help from Phillip either. I am a little worried about him. He has not written for days. All he does is lie in his bed and get up a couple times a day to eat or go to the bathroom. I think it was because of what happened last week. Some kids broke into our dorm room and found all of his writing and ripped it up or wrote mean things on it with sharpie. It was a novel he was working on and he would have had to start from scratch. He has been writing it for about a year now and a bunch of kids thought it would be funny to do that as a prank. Luckily, my letters are hidden away so no one can find them. Soon, I will visit you and bring these letters for you. As soon as winter break comes, I will try to visit you. Until then, I will be busy with school and especially preparing for finals. I wish break would come faster; I really want to see you.  I miss you.

 

            Sincerely,

                        Thomas

 

 

November 10, 2011

 

            Hi Ma. I know I haven’t written to you in awhile. I haven’t been to my classes in awhile either. Phillip got even worse since I last wrote to you. It got worse and worse until one day, I came back from English and found Phillip in the middle of the dorm. His body was there, but he wasn’t there. The cops came and made me leave my dorm. I had to talk to grief counselors about my grief, but I didn’t know I had any grief. I don’t know why everyone acted like Phillip was gone forever. No one is gone forever. Even the kids who pulled the prank were really sad. It turns out that they only took a few pages from his novel and wrote on those pages, but made copies of them first. Then they took school notes that looked like his handwriting and tore those up to make it look like they ripped the pages from his novel. They were going to give the whole thing back eventually.

            The counselors make me visit them twice a week. They tell me it is healthy to talk about my past. I told them that eating vegetables was healthy, but I eventually gave in after the third session. I told them about Dad and how fun that trip to the Zoo was on my eighth birthday. Until the ride home, of course. I told them about the big truck that blew a stop sign and ruined Dad’s new car. I didn’t want to say anymore but they made me keep talking during the next session. I still remember seeing your face when they told you. I don’t know why you were so sad. He was still alive. I remember hugging him and being happy that he was alive, but he didn’t say much. You told me that he was glad I was okay too. I just had a few scratches. I am not allowed off campus alone anymore, I don’t know why. I guess I am okay staying here until this is behind me.

 

            From,

                        Tommy


 

November 18, 2011

 

            Hi Ma. I still haven’t returned to any of my classes, but the grief counselors are making me go to visit them three times a week. I even had to take a test last time. Although, it wasn’t like most tests where there is multiple choice and maybe an essay. I did have to write an essay. They also poked me with needles, but I don’t see how that is a test. How can anyone fail that? They told me it was necessary so I let them. I still have to talk to them about my past. I don’t know why they are so interested in it. They asked if I could read these letters, and I let them because I am not hiding anything. After reading them, they asked me how my father died. It is weird that they ask me all of this because they already know everything about me. They have a folder. I must be pretty important. I told them that the doctors killed him. I said that you told me how the machines were helping him to breath but the doctors turned off the machine. I don’t understand why, because I thought it was a doctor’s job to keep their patients alive. I guess not. They wanted me to start talking about you too. I said that there is not much to tell. I told them that you moved somewhere, but I don’t really remember where. They told me it was alright that I don’t remember and we would talk more later. I stayed longer yesterday because Susan came down to talk to them before I left. They asked if she could read my letters too, and I said yes. Maybe I should get them published if they are this interesting. I could see them talking through a window after she read the letters, but I could not hear what was being said because I was in a different room. After she read the letters, she started to cry and she had to sit down. I don’t know why. Maybe she is upset about Phillip like everyone else. Or she could just be emotional. She is a very emotional person. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree does it Ma? You were very emotional when Dad was using those machines to breath too. Susan told me later that I was going to leave school and go somewhere else. I was really happy because being at school but not going to school was getting really boring. Maybe I am coming to your new house. I would love to see it sometime.

 

            From,

                        Tommy

 

 

November 21, 2011

 

            Hi Ma. They moved me to a new place. I don’t really like it here either; it definitely is not home. Everything is white and it smells weird. They gave me my letters and told me it would be good to keep writing the letters, but I don’t want to. I reread the letters and I don’t know why I wrote letters to you but didn’t send them. Isn’t that kind of foolish? This will be my last letter, at least until you get caught up with everything I wrote to you. I don’t know why they want me to keep writing though, or why I have to keep talking to them. I have to talk to someone everyday now. I will have to talk about my past, present, and my future. I don’t know how I am going to talk about my future if it hasn’t happened yet. I also have to take these big pills. You have to swallow the pills and I am not very good at it but they told me I would get use to it. I hope so. I really wish I could live with you, I remember that I thought it would be nice where you live. Well I guess this is goodbye, for now.

 

            From,

                        Tommy

 

 

June 1, 2012

 

Dear Mother,

 

            I have finished my rehabilitation and all is well. Reading the letters I wrote to you was difficult for me; I could not hold back the tears. I am living with Susan and her family right now, but I suspect I will leave soon so I do not invade on her family’s personal space for long. After months of being rehabilitated, I came to terms with what happened. Phillip’s suicide triggered a series of flashbacks and memories all at once that traumatized me. The doctor told me that in general terms, I experienced Selective Memory Loss that resulted from the build-up of psychological traumas. I felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulder when I finished rehabilitation and could remember everything. I remember Dad lying in the hospital bed on life support, alive yet at the same time not alive. He was breathing, but that was only because of the machines. I remember thinking I hated you after I discovered you agreed that the doctors could turn off the machines. I did not ever hate you and I never will. I am reading these past letters to you and I am reading this letter out loud as I write so that you can hear what I regret never saying to you. I think about you a lot nowadays. I remember summer days when I was a kid and you would push Susan and I on the swings. I remember all the cool birthday cakes you use to make for me and when you suddenly decided we would go to the beach for the day as a family. I never said it to you, but I appreciate everything you have done for me. You will always mean the world to me. I remember how you always made sure that under our Christmas Tree, presents were stacked high, even though you couldn’t afford everything. No matter how ungrateful we were to you, every Christmas morning our presents would be waiting for us. Being in my early teens, I did not stop to thank you for everything you have sacrificed for Susan and I. That is why I need to tell you this now. You need to know that my tears that fall onto this little yellow pad of paper are not of sadness and grief. The tears are of happiness. The happiness you gave to me in all that you have done for me. The happiness that I understand that where you are now is better; that you no longer have to struggle. There are no words that can describe how much you mean to me. There are no words to describe how much I wish you were here with me right now. There are no words to describe how much I miss you. You made me who I am today, and that is something I will never forget. I am going back to school, but this time, for science. I will not rest until I find something that will cure the disease you had. I want to prevent that disease from taking people’s lives. I won’t stop writing though. I know that even if I cannot see you, you are standing by my side, watching over me. I suppose you are listening to me right now, reading this through my tears. I can just imagine your smile, how it could brighten up the darkest of days. I brought you tulips, because I know how much you love them. I am going to leave these letters and the flowers next to your tombstone, so that you may read them whenever you like. I need you to know how much I appreciate you and how much I miss you and how much I love you. You once told me that the day I was born was one of the greatest days of your life. From a son to his mother, I can tell you that each day I got to see you was the greatest day of my life, because there is nothing I would want more in this world than to see you smile again. Nothing.

 

            Forever Love,

                        Tom

© 2013 Anthony C.


Author's Note

Anthony C.
This is a short story I wrote in a little under an hour. I used a very different and new technique of writing for me that I have never used before- it is written in the form of letters. I generally don't like to write in forms like this, but I had an idea and wanted to try it. This isn't my best work, it is more of an experiment. Constructive criticism is highly valued, especially for this piece. Any advice on what I could change or add next time I write a story in the form of letters or what I could change if I add on to the current story would be great. Again, this was just an experiment. I liked the idea but I wasn't exactly sure how to put it on paper. If you read this, please tell me what you think. Thank you.

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I was crying at the end. This is really good. If you wanted to, you could put this into a story where at the end of every chapter or so, the main character could be writing home about what's going on in his life.

Posted 7 Years Ago


Anthony C.

7 Years Ago

Thank you! That is a very interesting idea, I might try it. Thank you.
JJWeves

7 Years Ago

Your welcome :) I was actually gonna use the idea in my story, but instead of letters, I would use t.. read more
Anthony C.

7 Years Ago

That is a cool idea too

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Added on June 23, 2013
Last Updated on June 23, 2013
Tags: Letters, mother, son

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Anthony C.
Anthony C.

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