Dear Santa,,,

Oh, I thought long and hard before I began to write this. I feel that there has been enough time, although there is never really enough time. I had to learn the hard way, so it seems. Suicide, it’s debilitating. So, this time of year, fond memories start slowly creeping in…

Santa Claus, oh what a happy memory. I remember that some of the best days of my life were at Christmas and the worse days too. Even if it was not heartfelt all the time, people tried to keep it together a little better than the rest of the year. It was something in the air- the smell of red-eye gravy, homemade biscuits and coffee and it was death too. Uncle Harry died.

He was my dad’s youngest brother. He was extremely tall and apparently the blood reverses flow, at times and it didn’t start back for Uncle Harry. He worked across the street from the hospital that I was born. CPR would have saved him, but in 1967, it hadn’t been discovered.

On December 27, 1967 my baby brother was born, six months premature. The lining of the womb had a tear and he didn’t make it home to meet me. He would be 50 this year. Happy Birthday, baby Brother! I miss him and I never laid eyes on him. The months that followed were hard on my mom and dad. This is where mine and my mother’s relationship ceased to exist and we even know it. My mom, she’s tough, couldn’t show signs of weakness. I, however, could bring out the worst in her. It was definitely not the sign of a weak woman.

I remember good times at Christmas. Seems we could always count on Christmas making things “alright” again. Just give me a Sears and Roebuck catalog, oh my God I would sit for hours writing down page numbers, sizes. What Santa could get if they were out of this or that. I bet I must have had a hundred things that Santa could choose from and I just wanted one. But I would make a long list, just to make sure that I got something that I wanted. Something he didn’t have to worry about was me being picky. I wanted to make sure he had eaten his cookies and drank his milk. He had a lot of that on Christmas Eve night, you know?? I didn’t at 3, lol.

I just wanted to fill you in on the significance of Christmas. It was such a big part of my memories throughout my life. I didn’t realize it for a long time, but as I grew older and moved and moved and moved again, I would come back to the house. It wasn’t the same house, but it was their house, my parents house.

Everyone has to get up early on Christmas morning and if we didn’t spend the night there the night before, they waited on everybody to get there. That was a chore for Miss E. We ate a huge breakfast with grits, biscuits and gravy, sausage & cheese egg casserole. It wasn’t the same as when I was little, but for a little girl name Miss E, it was the beginning of her enjoyment of Santa.

How I miss those mornings, watching her open presents. One Christmas she’s hollering, “Oh Mommy, mommy I got socks!” If I could take it all back now, everything I ever did I would. But I can’t, so now I’m asking Santa to listen very carefully, because what I want for Christmas is not going to be an easy task.

I want to be forgiven, by a little angel named Miss E. I know I don’t deserve it, but I ask you with all my heart, to show her how to forgive me. So that she can go on and live, without regret. I don’t want to cause her anymore pain.

I used to sing to her until she went to sleep. She was in junior high before she wouldn’t let me do it anymore. “You Are My Sunshine”, I sang that song so many times. I’d be horse, but I did it over and over, just for her, because I loved her more than I love myself. I got lost and forgotten. Trampled on and beaten, until I couldn’t see the things around me. I gave up, not on her, but on me. She means everything to me. Some people say I was a bad mother. Maybe I was. People say that I’ve never taken accountability for my actions, never taken responsibility. They also blame me for doing things that even they knew they shouldn’t do. Because why?? Because they took responsibility and learned from their mistakes?? I on the other hand, should be a better person than that. I should not have allowed it. Maybe so. I don’t remember getting the memo on how you’re supposed to take on the weight of the world. Sure they may not get in trouble, but I didn’t even get the book on how to raise child and do it right.

No regrets. I do remember my mom telling me that I was a good mother. I was at one time. I don’t think I was that bad a mother. I did the best I knew to do at the time. They had no regard for what I wanted anyway, it was all about what she wanted and what they wanted and the hell with Kim and what she wants. She’s only the mother. The same people didn’t talk to me for 3 months after I told them I was pregnant and not married. These people were my parents.

Santa, take care of my Miss E. I always gave her the best of things. It wasn’t enough. I thought she had forgiven me, but apparently I was wrong. Give me the strength to not get mad when people say foolish things that they have no idea about. Help me to understand that I am human. That I’m not perfect and I have made a lot of mistakes. I would just like one day to be able to hold her in my arms again and love her the way I used to do when she was a child. Maybe coax her to call me sometimes, LOL. I don’t think she’s a bad person. I think she’s been misguided. I think she needs to learn forgiveness and compassion. Make the light shine on her this year. Let her know every turn every Moon every Star that falls from the sky that I’m there with her always. I will be with her even after death. I don’t want her to have to suffer and learn things over again and again like I have.

Thank you Santa. I hope I know what I’m doing now. Things have been so disorganized and bad since William died. It left me in a hell of a mess. I have nowhere to go anymore. I don’t have a purpose. But I’m trying to heal. I know people think I’m not trying at all, but I am. Also I just like to say this while I’m asking Santa, would you please give us this year.? I really feel like this year I’ll be at a point that she’ll understand me now. I think she’s grown up enough. Just open her eyes and let her see me! Because I’m not that bad person that I used to be. I’m her mommy or as she used to say, Mammy. Give her big hugs and kisses for me please and I’ll just wait patiently. I know patience is not my virtue, but I am learning to be more patient and understanding.

Thank you Santa. Thank you God. Bless everyone this year…

Dear Santa,,,


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