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.
Claire V. Bogdanos 