Things that will never be said in person. Although they should be.
It has been more than two months since I saw you at the daycare with my son. I remember seeing your car there and pulling into the parking lot across the street, just so I would see my sweet boy's face one more time. I will never forget the way he smiled and yelled for me. And I will never forget the way you pulled him out of my sight and slammed shut the doors.
I do hope one day I will get to share my side of the story with you. Thirteen and a half years of my side of the story. For now, I am saddened that your daughter turned out to be the typical American parent, the parent of students I work with every day. The parent who uses hate and takes revenge so that she will feel better. The parent who has a child to fill a void that cannot be filled. Your daughter had a child for the wrong reasons, I know you know that. We can't say it was an accident, either (although that's a different story, right?). Your daughter promised she would raise this child with me. When things didn't work anymore between us, she promised she would let me see him and have a relationship with him, because I am still his mother too. Again, in typical American fashion, your daughter broke these promises and now she is playing house on Facebook with someone else. Someone who was recently convicted of physical assault. It should be ok, though, your daughter is pretty good at assaulting people herself. My head hurt for a month after she beat me up that faithful night. I hope she does realize I can still see everything online, even if she blocked me, right? Or maybe not. She never really believed I am as smart as I say I am.
On a different note, did you know your daughter began a relationship with me because she wanted to see if she could take a married woman away from her husband? I was a challenge for her, and she succeeded. She and I have been through so much together. I always thought that would be enough to hold us together forever. Until the last minute, I hoped that she would not be so cruel as to completely take my child away. I am having nightmares often about what he must be thinking of me. I wonder if he misses me at all. I wonder if he remembers things we did together, the way we played, taking baths with mermaids, singing at bedtime with red light on. I wonder if he remembers me asking him what his favorite color was every day, what his favorite food was, and what mine were. It hurts to think about how selfish I have been myself. Not being able to see him is my punishment for being so. I do hate myself for that, trust me. But I hate your daughter more, for giving me the chance to be a mother for three years and a half, only to take it all away in less than five minutes.
I know Karma will deliver. I am patiently waiting for it. I hope your daughter is as well.