An Open Letter to My Mother Who is Here In Body, But Not Mind

We all need you back.

Brian Brewington
3 min readApr 23


Photo by Wesley Mc Lachlan on Unsplash

I know you’re in there. I know you hear me, and us. I also know you’re not you, at the moment. It’s like you recognize me, but don’t know me. Remember me, but not why. It’s like you don’t remember us, or what was.

Perhaps you misremember or simply don’t know what to say. Maybe you understand what’s going on with you, even less than we do. Including Doctors. Specialists, priests, psychologists, to neurologists. We just don’t know. All I know is I fear and prepare for the worst while praying and hoping for the best. Regardless of what’s to happen, there are things I want to say, even if they never reach you, which they likely won’t.

I could not be more thankful for the time I’ve got to spend with you — all of it. Every conversation, every disagreement, piece of advice, every bit of wisdom and experience — and even your mistakes.

I learned from all of them. Invaluable lessons I couldn’t have otherwise properly learned. At least not those that would have stuck in this bullish pig head of mine. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of the above.

Any faith I have, I learned from you. I hold onto that same faith today, because of you and for you. I have faith you’re not done fighting, because it’s all you’ve ever known and done. It’s what we do.

However should you be too tired to keep fighting, I’d understand that and have found it within me to accept as much, should it be the case. To me, it would simply mean an end to every kind of pain you’ve ever felt and all that has ever troubled you. You’d be forgiven for all, by all.

This is what I need you to know and understand, above all, you’re forgiven. I have nothing but love for you and couldn’t be more proud to be your son.

The reason I refuse to fully believe you’re done fighting is that I never thought I’d see the day you stopped drinking, and I’ve never been so happy to be proven wrong. For well over a year, I got the best version of you, when I needed it most. Throughout that time, I wasn’t always at my best and I’m sure you knew it. After all, I am yours. I apologize for any worry, stress, or pain I caused you, both during that time, as well as any other.

I’m going to end this somewhat abruptly because it truly is the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to write. I’ll never give up on you like you never did me — regardless of what that looks like. There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you and there’s nothing that could ever change that.

Regardless of what’s to happen, just know I’ll never stop making you proud.

Sincerely, your first and only child.



Brian Brewington

Writing About the Human Condition, via My Thoughts, Observations, Experiences, and Opinions — Founder of Journal of Journeys and BRB INC ©