Letter 1

Today my mother died.  

She killed herself.  

I want to write down as much as I can remember before I forget. I know it will work because I remember my dreams the same way.. I remember her, coming home from work. The sound of the garage closing, and her so pretty with all her makeup. How she’d walk into my room to check if I was asleep, and I would pretend to be asleep. Always at the old house, once at the new house. 

I remember picking her up in the car after work, and how she’d bring me back a box of captain crunch. I remember her sitting in the kitchen chair, drinking tea. Her in the red oversized tshirt. When she came to my graduation. How happy she was.  

It’s not fair. It’s not fair. 

It’s not fair.  

I know this will work I just have to remember

I remember her on webcam, how she showed me her white hair. Webcamming with her on my computer at work.. Making faces for her to cheer her up. Making her laugh.  I can’t remember what I made her laugh about…  

Her face when she laughed.. Like a bunny. A happy bunny. Her eyes looked so happy.

The face she would make when she was surprised, the “Ah?!” she would exclaim, putting her hands on her head. 

The frown she made when she was disappointed. When she was mad. The one wrinkle between her eyebrows she hated.

The loud sigh she would make to tell me she was upset. 

How she liked to bite my arm, and hug me. 

How she always wore a big t-shirt and her hair was frazzled. 

How she looked when she woke up and came down the stairs, squinting. When she was barely awake. How her hands slid down the bannister to support herself.

How she turned the fan on in the kitchen when she was cooking. 

When she sat on the floor, rolling dough. How she looked when she kneaded the dough.

When she used to teach me to read Chinese using flashcards. How her voice sounded. Soft. Round. 

When she would shop with me at the mall. and how she would wait outside the stores for me when she was tired. How she would stand up when I came out so that I wouldn't think she was tired. 

The leather loafers she wore. She never wore the other shoes, all the nice shoes she had. Always those old shoes when we went out. They were falling apart. Same with her coat. That red coat. She never wore any of her new coats. It was always that same one. The same one in my baby pictures.

The pink polo with the white pants she would wear. 

The long blue dress she always wore.

Her sunglasses.

Why can’t I remember any more..

Please let me remember..

~