A MOTHER’S FINAL WORDS TO HER DAUGHTER
My Most Perfect, Loved Thing
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My dearest Aubrius,
I’m over a hundred years too late in writing this. If I were half as brave as I’ve heard you are, I’d be over a hundred years too late in saying it instead. But I know your temper, the one thing I prayed you wouldn’t get from me, and I’ve put off even writing to you because I convinced myself you’d throw this letter away sooner than read it. It may have taken me 300 more years to garner the courage to write this if I weren’t sick, but I knew I couldn’t die while you still believed that I hated you.
Where do I start my apologies? I’ve failed you as a mother at every turn. I abandoned you, neglected you, abused you — all for a crime you didn’t commit. That you were also a victim of. And when you left me, sooner than any mother should ever let her child be alone in the world, I was relieved because I could finally nurse my wounds without the face of the man who’d shattered me mocking me every day.
I’m sure you don’t need me to list my wrongs. I imagine you remember them well enough yourself. So I will begin simply, by saying only that I am sorry. I’m so sorry, Aubrie.
Your father called you Aubrie, you know. He left when you were so young, I doubt you’d remember…
