Chapter 4
My Dearest Joshua,
I don’t know how to begin this letter. My hands tremble with the knowledge that the words I use will significantly impact your life. What if I say the wrong thing? Or express myself in a way that’s misunderstood? What if my reaching out to you drives you away from me and ruins all chances to make peace with you? It’s a huge responsibility and I don’t want to get it wrong.
After all, even though you are my flesh and blood, born from my body, the truth is I’m a stranger to you. It’s been twenty years since I’ve tucked you into bed or made your favorite snack, and although it seems like yesterday to me, chances are you’ve moved on. Yes, I’m your mother, but you have a new life now and have probably gotten used to my absence.
But I will never get used to yours.
I can only image how much of a shock it is for you to hear from me. I want you to know that if there was any way I could have gotten these letters to you before now, I would have. But the truth is, there were circumstances beyond my control that prevented it. I pray the years of grief haven’t closed your heart to me, and somehow this letter will make you remember me fondly. I know you’ve been told some horrible things about me and what I did, but let me assure you they are not true. I would have never willingly left you. I love you, Joshua. You were my world in 1962, and you still are today.
I often find myself closing my eyes and reliving the days we spent together so many years ago. I can once again smell the intoxicating scent of my little boy after a long day on the beach, hear your voice shrill with excitement as you bravely jump over the small waves, and feel your damp, sunburned body as you curl up on my lap at the end of a long day. I count the steps in my mind as I remember walking you to school, and I joyfully relive the moment at the end of every school day when you leapt from the porch and into my arms. I would have never let you fall and somehow you knew that. You leapt from that porch with such confidence, an absolute surety that I would be there to catch you. And I would have moved mountains to make sure I did. Please don’t forget that, sweetheart. Please know that if I were able, I would be there now to catch you whenever you fall.
I realize you are no longer a five-year-old boy but time has stood still for me and I can only cling to the memories of the time we had together. Those wonderful, magical days of your childhood. If only I’d known how short they would be, I would have done so many things differently.
But please forgive me, I didn’t mean to go on and on about only my feelings. You were just a little boy when our lives were torn apart, and I fear that the abrupt loss of your mother has caused you to struggle with life, as so many people do who lose someone important at such a tender age.
Which brings me to one of the reasons why I fought so hard to be able to write you. I feel it’s important that you understand exactly what happened all those years ago, why you were left alone without your mother, and hopefully this will help you come to terms with it all. You see, I know the trauma of what happened has probably haunted you throughout the years and caused you to be hesitant in your approach to life. It only makes sense, but I think if I tell you my story, our story, you will come to understand the importance of risking everything for what means the most to you. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring, Joshua—our lives have proven that. And since we’re only promised this moment, we can’t let it slip through our fingers. We have to live in a way where we won’t have any regrets about the things we do, or even worse, the things we didn’t do but wish we had. I hope in some small way, my story will help you understand this, and if you are living your life in fear, it will free you from that. I want you to learn from my mistakes.
All I want, sweetheart, is for you to live your life to the fullest and not let our tragic past hold you back from what’s possible.
I realize at this moment you can barely read these words, can’t understand how you could possibly receive a letter from your mother who has been dead for twenty years. I’m sure your first instinct will be to disbelieve that the letter is really from me, and think someone is playing a cruel joke on you. But if you believe it, if you somehow recognize me in these words, you will probably try and find me. But you mustn’t.
I fear that simple action would put you in grave danger.
I’m sorry, Joshua, but for your own good, I need to ask you to trust me.
Life with the Malleys couldn’t have been easy, and I’m sorry you had to grow up in what was probably a restrictive and oppressive environment. It’s not fair to you—a mother’s job is to raise her children to be happy, confident adults and when I brought you into this world, I had every intention of staying by your side, shaping and gently guiding you until you were ready to take on life’s challenges. But then fate intervened, and I had to leave you, not willingly, but kicking and screaming, because I knew I hadn’t yet completed my job. And for this, my dear Joshua, I’m sorry. But please know that I would have never left you on my own free will.
Joshua looked up from the letter, searched the horizon for some clue, some logical explanation of how he could be holding a letter from his dead mother. It just didn’t make sense. He’d been told his entire life his mother had taken her own life, willingly left him, but these words were contradicting everything he knew. He looked again at the lavender parchment and wondered if this is what he had been waiting for his entire life. He continued to read.