Claire V. Bogdanos

From a mother to her son, and I write singularly,

because you are all the same, one finger of a hand, it

matters not which one, because all are indispensible

to me.   You are all an integral part of me, not even

death can truly separate us.  We are eternally one flesh.

I know with great clarity that you wish that our family

problems could be, with mysterious and magical alacrity,

whisked away on some fortuitous wind.  But you must now

understand that this is impossible, for many reasons,

honor not the least.

Perhaps with foolish vanity, I say to you that I have

sincerely tried to mend a constantly crumbling relationship

in the best manner that I was capable of, and perhaps my

efforts were misconstrued; and then again, perhaps my

vision and my ability were clouded by my own personal

pain and disappointment.   Perhaps, I too, was weak and

selfish.  My God, I hope not.

It must be that you profit from my experience in that

you do not err as I did, but rather that you see my errors,

tucking the memory of them away in some far corner of your

mind, using them as a guide in your lives to avoid similar

misfortune.  Each of you must make your own mistakes, hoping

only that every one teaches you a valuable lesson.  I love

you all as I love my life, you have each given me memories

and joys to last a lonely lifetime.   I pray that I have done

the same for you.   I apologise deeply for having brought you

to your present pain, and whatever decisions you individually

reach,  I will accept as being just and honorable, for this is the

manner in which I have tried to raise you.

Love, Your mother.