Yesterday marked the second anniversary of your passing. I suppose I should still be in grieving, but I find myself still feeling rather little. Your last words to me still burn in my brain: "You were the biggest mistake I've ever made." I have reflected on them quite a bit over the past two years. Your mission to hurt me was once a success, but now those words have only strengthened me.
How could I be your "biggest mistake"? You didn't even know me. You left long ago. You chose to miss out on countless birthdays and Christmases, band and choir concerts, spring and summer breaks. You weren't there for first loves or first heartbreaks, cram sessions, book reports, or science projects. You weren't there to see me graduate high school -- even my dad was there for that one. You missed my engagement, my wedding, and the birth of both of my sons. You missed all of their firsts, as well; they don't know you at all. Tell me again how I ruined your life?
Today, I don't grieve you. I pity you. While you may have considered me your mistake, God doesn't make mistakes -- I was meant to be. Meant to be disowned by a mother, but adopted by the Father, who sent His Son to redeem me and grow me into who I am today. And He has always been there, every single step of the way, especially when you weren't. Thank you for making your "biggest mistake", because it has turned out to be my greatest blessing.
Sincerely,
Your Daughter
