Dear Nathaniel and Rachael,
Although many, if not most, of the things I’m going to talk about here were far beyond our control, our ability to do differently and no one’s fault, I feel the need to address them.
I’m sorry your sister got cancer. I’m sorry for what this meant for the past years of your lives. I’m sorry your childhood was marred by the knowledge of cancer, chemotherapy and loss. I’m sorry for the time that can never be regained and the innocence forever gone. I’m sorry for all of us, but especially you.
I’m sorry I asked you to be forgiving when your sister treated you in ways that would have gotten a stranger laid flat out with a mama-given sucker punch. I’m sorry that you had to be afraid in your home, fearful of awakening the beast that slept inside your sister more times than I can count. I’m sorry for the times she yelled hatefully at you, pinched you, made ugly faces at you and generally made your life a living hell. I’m sorry that you lost that sweet baby sister for so long, to have her replaced with the angry, cranky, sick child that came home from that first hospital stay. I’m sorry that THIS became your new normal life.
I’m sorry for the mornings I wasn’t there to make your lunch and kiss you goodbye in front of the school. I’m sorry for the nights we had to say goodnight over the phone and I could hear the tears you were so bravely holding back….or not holding back. I’m sorry for the times when you woke up in the night to find that I was gone with your sister to the hospital, the days you were picked up from school by someone telling you that we were inpatient. I’m sorry I wasn’t there every bedtime to hug your freshly bathed body and get a toothpasty kiss. I’m sorry for the nights you went to sleep wondering what was happening, what was wrong with your sister and I wasn’t there to explain and comfort.
I’m sorry for the menu plans that heavily rotated around McDonalds and Cracker Barrel. I’m sorry for the mornings we woke up to realize there were no clean uniform bottoms and you had to wear the least dirty ones to school. I’m sorry for not realizing your shoes were too small until they’d given you a blister. I’m sorry for the mornings you woke me up instead of the other way around.
I’m sorry for the times you felt jealous when cards and gifts came for your sister and you got nothing. I’m sorry for those moments when you stood there unnoticed as another person asked, “How’s Peyton?” and didn’t ask how you were doing. I’m sorry for the times when your own friends said hello to Peyton first and oohed and ahhed over her when they should have been clustering around you.
I’m sorry for the last-minute book reports and projects that were forgotten. I’m sorry for the field trips and competitions and sports days that I wasn’t there to be a part of and to cheer you on. I’m sorry for the day you lost that math competition and needed me to hug you and tell you how proud I was of you for even being chosen to go but I could only talk to you on the phone. I’m sorry for the cupcakes I couldn’t bring, the cookies I didn’t bake and the class parties that I made you take Publix baked good. I’m sorry for the birthday parties we missed, the playdates we couldn’t make.
I’m sorry for the times I bought gifts to keep you busy instead of spending the time with you that I should have. I’m sorry for the nights when I didn’t have any more to give than to kiss your lips goodnight and tell you I’d read you a story the next night. I’m sorry for the many MANY nights your sister was allowed to sleep in our bed and I told you that you couldn’t.
I’m sorry for the too-many-to-count trips to the hospital. I’m sorry that you had to see your sister sick, weak, looking rather scary. I’m sorry for the times you had to eat hospital food for dinner, but those cheese sticks are pretty good. I’m sorry you had to watch your sister go bald, get fuzzy, go bald again so many times. I’m sorry you had to learn that cancer kills people and understand that your sister had THAT.
I’m sorry you had to see and hear me cry so many times. I’m sorry I wasn’t a stronger mother and able to suck it up until I was alone. I’m sorry you had to make friends at support group who could identify with what your life was, although those are super friends and you would have loved them anyway. I’m sorry for the times you comforted me and were responsible for the only bright moments in my day.
I’m sorry for the times I yelled, snapped or barked at you for minor things. I’m sorry that I projected my anger and frustration at our situation onto you way too many times. I’m sorry for all the times I was at the end of my rope and left you dangling by a string. I’m sorry for the times I should have spent time with you and I had to leave instead, had to go do something for me. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the mother I should have been over the past 24 months, that I had to focus so much of my attention on your sister and never had enough for you. I will be eternally sorry for that.
I’m sorry for those conversations about Heaven and where our friends went….you’ll never know how sorry I am for that. I’m sorry that you have to understand what death is. I’m sorry that I couldn’t put it all back together. I’m sorry that you lost that “my mom can fix anything” way too early in life.
I’m so sorry that I can’t tell you it’s going to be ok. I’m sorry I can’t tell you that our lives will ever go back to normal. I’m sorry that I can’t promise you that your sister will always be with us. I’m sorry that when you ask me now, I can’t promise that your world will ever be right again. I’m sorry I can’t tell you the cancer is gone for good and will never come back, I wish I could.
I hope you know that although it might have felt differently, I love you two every bit as much as it is possible to love another human being, as much as I love your sister. You are just as precious, treasured and adored. I am thankful every day for the privilege of being your mother and I could not have gotten more perfect children. I pray that someday you will understand what happened during this time and that you will be forgiving of the many upsets and mistakes that were made. Mostly, I just pray that you always know how much you are loved.
Love,
Mom
18 responses so far ↓
1 DunnRight // Jun 30, 2008 at 9:31 pm
This was heartbreaking and beautiful. I’m sure they know. I’m sure that deep down, they know and understand. You may not think so because they are young, but they know you love them just as much as her and vice versa.
This was such a pure post, one of my favorites! You’re so strong, Anissa!
2 nik // Jun 30, 2008 at 9:46 pm
I know this had to have been a hard letter to right and I can only imagine all the pain you went through with each tap of a key. Your children are lucky to have a mom like you and I agree with DunnRight. Your kids know deep down.
I don’t know you, or your family, but my heart goes out to you all. Many positive thoughts your way. Big hugs!
3 My Cancer Treatments » Blog Archive » A letter of apology to my kids // Jun 30, 2008 at 10:13 pm
[...] unknown wrote an interesting post today onHere’s a quick excerpt [...]
4 Lori // Jun 30, 2008 at 10:19 pm
Dear Anissa,
Your letter to Nathaniel and Rachel is soooo heartwrenchingly beautiful…thank you for sharing that with us!
One thing that came to mind as I read were the times in my childhood and even as an adult when I was majorly hurt by something or felt left out and how the ONE thing that would have meant so much were the simple words “I’m sorry…” People aren’t always comfortable with apologies…some think it makes them weak. I think it takes a person of ENORMOUS character to admit they wish they’d been able to do things differently. And, like the other comment someone made, I DO believe firmly that your kids will one day understand the sacrifices ALL OF YOU have had to make. Cancer affects the WHOLE family–as you so very well know! I believe your kids will say to you that they understand and accept your apology wholeheartedly…
You are doing the best you can—and just like all of us, sometimes we fall short. Hugs, Lori
5 Karen Sugarpants // Jun 30, 2008 at 10:38 pm
I’m sure they know all this, deep down. This was beautiful and bittersweet though.
I wish Thomas’ wish could come true. Mush love and strength to you and your family.
6 Marie // Jul 1, 2008 at 2:09 am
Ok just let me blink the tears out of my eyes so I can see the screen to type this comment. Gosh…beautiful letter. Have they read it or is it something you want to show them when they’re older? I think it will mean a lot. Even though I’ve never met you, I have seen through your journal how much you love the “other two” - non cancer children. There are so many cancer journal websites where the other children are not really mentioned but you always write about Rachael and Nathaniel with such love.
There’s a book you might be interested in that kind of deals with this topic, “My Sisters Keeper” by Jodi Piccoult. You will probably relate to it though it might be a little too close to home. Anyway you might want to check it out.
7 Karalyn // Jul 1, 2008 at 12:34 pm
Can I come give you a hug right now?
What a heartfelt letter of apology.
You have GREAT kids Anissa, you must be doing something right.
8 Angela // Jul 2, 2008 at 6:18 am
Dear Anissa,
Tears streaming down my face and loving you so much. May we all tell our kids everyday in our words and actions how much we love and cherish them. I know Rachael and Nathaniel love you too.
Angela
9 Brenda Vosejpka // Jul 2, 2008 at 8:57 am
Wow! I cried..and cried while reading this entry. Anissa…you always amaze me with your words. Usually they are so witty and funny. But mixed in with those witty and funny words are words of love for all three kids. Iv always been able to see it. Im sure they have seen it too.
The one thing I have noticed is the time you spend writing about each child. Not just Peyton. Its never just been about Peyton…Nathaniel and Rachael have always been there too. Mixed in the words of your writings..each and every time. Sometimes I feel as if I can see all three of them. Even with the sibling rivaly and the normal dissagreements siblings have. I have always been able to see the love they have for their sister. And..I have ALWAYS been able to see the love you have for them…ALL three of them. I think they see it too.
Your kids are blessed! Very blessed! (and so is Pete)
The road your traveling isnt one that anyone would chose. You didnt chose it…it was chosen for you. And I dont think anyone else could have handled it with the grace, style, caring and compassion like you have.
God bless you Annisa! Brenda
10 Elinor // Jul 3, 2008 at 10:23 am
Anissa, I follow your blogs but missed this one which I just finished with both tears in my eyes and the highest admiration for you and the way you love your children. I am sure they all know how deep your love is and also know that you would have chosen not to have to write this letter to them, if you could.
11 Black Hockey Jesus // Aug 2, 2008 at 4:25 pm
I hope that the people N & R become are such that you will be relieved of being so sorry.
Black Hockey Jesuss last blog post..TuneUp
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[...] A letter of apology to my kids: A mom of 3 kids whose youngest child has cancer writes a letter of apology to her other two children for all of the difficulties it has caused them and all that they have had to give up and live without. [...]
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14 RC // Sep 9, 2008 at 12:09 pm
They will understand, and they love you.
And although it is tough, they will know you did the best you could. And they will admire your for it.
I know it isn’t a life or death situation for me, but believe it or not, as a mom who works outside the home (with a commute I would rather not talk about), I do understand to some extent. I always feel like I’m short-changing my child in my effort to make certain we keep our house, pay the bills, etc.
I am in no way comparing my situation to your situation, but I understand how torn you feel.
They will forgive you. They will even find happy memories during the sad times. These challenges they have had to face at such young ages will make them stronger adults - more compassionate adults.
You are doing fine.
And I’m so glad I’ve met you through your blog. Take care.
15 Alaina // Sep 11, 2008 at 11:19 am
Will you pass me a tissue?
16 field trip friday | Hope4Peyton // Oct 8, 2008 at 9:56 pm
[...] I know that there is always the chance that I will have to disappoint him…again. [...]
17 Tonya // Dec 12, 2008 at 6:33 pm
well gosh darn it, now I feel the need to go apologize to my kids for yelling at them this morning. Needed that wake up call.
What a beautiful letter. They are very lucky to have you as their mum.
18 A Lost Writer // Dec 23, 2008 at 1:31 pm
That was beautiful. It let me cry. I’ve been falling apart because my only son’s Coats Disease has recurred. I’ve been trying to keep my chin up and not doing too well - despite writing a rambling post about giving thanks 15 minutes back. I still have no idea how I’m going to terms with this - but it’s comforting to know that mothers the world over feel for their kids this way no matter what. Sorry, I’m rambling again. God bless you and your family.
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