Dear person I haven’t forgiven,

(My father’s Mother)

I’ve written this letter a thousand times and maybe I need to write it a thousand more. I’ve tried to recreate images closest to your face but when I do the warm heart feeling drops -10 degrees. I can hear the hollowed out love from your chest. With my name on it. I know you don’t love me. I know you despise me. I know you don’t acknowledge my existence, remember when I picked up the phone to hear your dial toned wishes that never came through, because you dropped the call so fast when you heard the anguished “Hello.”  From my mouth. Why don’t You Love me?  I dove in and went soul-searching trying to find what I did for you to hate me so much.

Dear person I haven’t forgiven, My father’s Mother you told me I should be grateful for you. “If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t be alive.” I am grateful. Grateful that your pinpricked love deflated before I suffocated in it. If you haven’t figured out by the end of this letter, No I haven’t forgiven you. Not in the slightest, you told me I wasn’t worth loving. You are wrong I’m Worth loving you just didn’t know how. I loved you so much. Dreaming, wishing, hoping you would love me back. I didn’t care if I was breaking my own heart; I just wanted you to love me. You were suppose to love me. I no longer crave your love, I don’t long for your voice anymore, I don’t want you anymore. You broke my heart before I was even born.

                                   Sincerely, The Granddaughter you never had.