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Dear mom,
I just want you to know I love you. I don't honestly blame you or hold you up as a guilty party to my illnesses. Yes, your genetics gave me fibromyaglia, polycystic ovarian syndrome, possible ulcers, and a crappy immune system. But that does not mean that you're a bad mother. I know that while you heavily considered having a child, you worried that I would turn out sickly. I know you wanted the genetics to skip a generation. And I'm sorry that you've allowed my illnesses to become such a heavy burden.
I cannot stand to see your face when I answer your question of "How are you holding up?" Because when I answer you honestly, your expression tells me your heart is breaking every single time. You flash sorrow and then cover it quickly.
Please, please don't blame yourself. I don't blame you. Dad doesn't blame you. Grandma and grandpa never blamed you. Why blame yourself for something you could not control? Why get your hopes up when my pale coloring and multiple eye bags answer your own question on sight?
And I'm sorry I've allowed myself to get this sick. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was being abused. I'm sorry I left...
Also, you need to take better care of yourself. I know you're not. You know you're not, and dad kinda is a bit dense to it. You once told me a brain scan back in 2000 showed that you were losing brain functionality. It's 2013. I've watched you fall simply getting up from your chair numerous times. I've watched you randomly lose your balance and look back at me in fear as you regain yourself and proceed to act like it never happened. And I know you didn't 'slip' on the porch last fall. I know you fell like you usually do. And I'm mad you broke your knee and didn't say a word when you fell that time. That's not ok.
I've watched you, over the years, slowly lose grasp of the English language. I've helped you numerous times write out simple sentences and spell "they" for you. Soon, I'll be feeding you and cleaning you. And it hurts me to know that, and I know it hurts you just as much as it hurts me, if not more, to know that's your future if your heart doesn't give out like it's trying to.
But I want you to know, that even though I've known since I was 10 you'd die an early death, that I've never loved you less for it. I've never held a grudge against you for it. I love you. A lot. You're my mom! Even if dad and I are similar in intelligence and psychologically.... you're my mom. I look like you, I came from you, we bonded as I grew inside and outside of you. And I'm going to miss you so much. You get me through the day most days, and you don't even know it. I grin and bear it, thinking to myself "If my mom can put up with lupus, fibromyalgia, diabetes, and all the other crap she has and put dinner on the table and a smile on her face, then I can handle what I'm going through now." You've always been my one role model mom. And I wish that I could save you from your genetics. I don't know what I'm going to do when you're gone.

But I just really want you to know that I love you. A lot.