Mother,

Honestly even writing such a term is nothing short of enraging. As the anniversary of your death approaches with tomorrow it’s almost as if everyone in this god forsaken family has condemned themselves to honoring your memory. Or what they are willing to consider your memory. Which at this point consists of nothing more than lies and falsities as they wear solemn looks and black attire. As if your presence was ever anything more than a wretched burden, thrust upon anyone so unfortunate to have crossed your intoxicated path at any of the estate’s events.

Many have spoken on the novelty of honoring your memory. The estates halls have even been decked out in what father has claimed your favorite flowers were. I can’t help but laugh to myself every time I walk past them as they aren’t even your actual favorites. That’s how much of a disappointment you were to him. Even in death he’s stuck cleaning up from your vile existence. Although I suppose it is easier and more demure to line the fixtures with bouquets than it is to have a clattering of empty liquor bottles adorning the mantels. Because we both know those are the only things that you ever actually wanted to line our home with.

But for a woman who so valued spitting the unfiltered truth in peoples faces it does feel a bit hypocritical don’t you think? Having so many shed a fake tear in your honor. Lie about your true aesthetics. As if you’d have ever done more than chortle over their graves, poison spilling from your lips into the closest ear you could find.

It’s why I have chosen to waste this bit of ink, and my life, one final time for you.

With a gift you truly deserve.

Hopefully this mirror makes it past all of the flames nipping at your heels as you’ll be the only one to ever willingly look upon your face again with anything other than disgust and malice pouring from their heart. Because if you think for even a second that anyone you’ve ever spoken to cares to let you live on in their memories past this marked day then you’re even more of a fool then this entire family has already taken you for.

See you in hell,
Beryl D. Wixeldorf