The letters written here follow 11 years after my mother's death. Although a silent peace and forgiveness was reached just days before she died, I still have scars and emotions to deal with from my childhood. As a child, I wasn't allowed to speak to the pain of the abuses -- the pain and hurt, grief, degradation, lack of affirmation, the belief I wasn't worth anything. Had I spoken out, the wrath would have been multiplied. Layer upon layer the scars still run deep. As I write these letters, I hope to find a place of healing.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ~~ Maya Angelou

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Did You Love Them Better?

Dear Mama,

I'm sure it never occurred to you.  Never saw the hurt or anguish in my eyes as I sat in the room with you.  Sunday after Sunday as you taught their little class.

Yes, I watched closely even though I too was only a child at the time.  At about age 11 or 12, you asked me to be your helper.  I saw how you treated them.  Differently.  So differently than you treated me.

And all the time I was wondering if you loved them better.  Loved them better than me.

Was it that you didn't expect the same things from them?  Or was it because you only had them on Sundays?  Or did they strike a different chord in your heart?

So baffling even now as I think back to that time. Somewhere long ago there were some photos of some of your classes, but searching has revealed nothing.  The image here is a reminder of your facial expression while teaching.

Patient, kind, even loving.

And then we went home, and She was gone.  She was the teacher that morning.  She was their companion, friendly and kind.  Where did She go afterwards?

It has puzzled me all these years, but no longer.  You see it's just possible that there was something I didn't know and maybe still don't about why.

Maybe I'll find the answer as I write more but for now, you just need to know how deeply those Sundays hurt me.  I wanted you the teacher persona to be my mama.

Continuing to find you, with love,



  1. Sherrey, Such a heartfelt longing portrayed so vividly through your child's voice. Your writing draws me in to the depth of the heartache. And yet, you are still searching with a spirit of forgiveness and hope. That's a lot of work for a little girl. I feel so sad for her. I also feel your desperate need to understand. For some reason that leaves me with a sense of hope that you will find the answers some day. This is powerful stuff! Thank you for sharing.

    1. Kathy, thank you for continuing to read and walk along beside me. I struggle with sitting down to write each one, and then afterwards I feel as if a load has been lifted. So, I think it is working and I can see these as part of my book. Thanks for being so faithful.



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