I’m writing to you today to tell you that I forgive you. I’m sorry that you’re so sick. I pray everyday that you will get a job and that you will start to take your medicine everyday. I know that it’s hard because it makes you feel “not normal”.
I do love you, but because of your illness, it makes it hard to have conversations with you. I had to set boundaries with you because I don’t want to have political or military discussions with you and it’s hard, but at least we can have a relationship. You and I fundamentally disagree about those issues. I was bothered when you called me to wish me a happy anniversary–considering my anniversary is in December, not March. You called because it was the 5th year anniversary of the Iraqi war.
I know that you feel like I have abandoned you, but I haven’t. I’m still here and I’m still your daughter. Rob and I have talked about having you move in with us. We were thinking that when we get back to the states, we would buy a house and there would be a separate entrance for you–kind of like your own apartment. You could even take Windy with you. I’m sure that she and Gizmo would get along just fine. I’ve never breached the subject with you, but I think it would be better for you. It would be easier for you and then you wouldn’t have to rape your 401k just to survive.
I don’t know what God has in store for you, but I do want you to know that I’m here for you and that I do love you. I am praying for you and I want you to know that. Please take care of yourself.