a letter I can't send

dear mom,
I bet you would be surprised to find out how often I think about you and how much I miss you, considering how little we talked previous to dru dying two years ago. even after that, I still wasn't consistent with my calling. to be fair, though, you gave up on me too. I don't think people ever got to hear that side of things. people look at me as the negligent daughter, but not you as the negligent mother. after all, you called my sister every day. you rarely called me.
but mom, I don't hold it against you too much. you were always closer to her. I've always been a little distant from everyone, I guess. I always felt a little out of place no matter where I was. and I hated feeling guilty and calling you always reminded me of how long it had been since last we'd talked. and things had been so bad with me for so long ... I just didn't want to call until I had something good to say. and when I did, I would call, and I would tell you.
the thing is, I thought about you a lot before you died, too. you have never been far from me. there have always been daily reminders. I wish that I had told you that when you could have appreciated it. I wish I would have touched you more, and told you more, and been a more attentive daughter. but I wasn't. and now it's too late.
that isn't what I wanted to say, though. I wanted to say that there are times in my head that I wish I was still in the hospital with you, just so I could talk to you. so I could soothe you. I wasn't there enough either. all my life, I've always felt like I was lacking and like I wasn't doing enough. it confuses me when people tell me that I push myself too hard or I expect too much of myself because to me, I'm never doing enough. I'm never at the peak of my potential.
I wish I'd been more patient with you.
I wish I could be more patient with myself. with everyone.
for so many years I didn't feel like I could have a real relationship with you. I am so glad that I was eventually able to, even if it wasn't long enough. I really needed you right before you died, but I never got the chance to talk to you about it. I never got to tell you about my old boss that had died. because then you died, less than a month later.
I think about you being in the hospital. I think about being there with you. I think about how much things have changed in the six months since then. this is still so hard to handle. I have withdrawn more from everyone than I have ever done before in my life. mom, why?
every time I left, I thought you would be getting better. I thought I'd come back to improvement. but no. I think it's better this way for you, but it fucking sucks for the rest of us.
I guess what I wanted to do was say that I miss you and I wish I was still around you and I'm sorry I wasn't a better daughter.
I love you, so very very much.
I wish I'd worked harder at making that clear.