What Is The Main Message Of 'To My Mother: I Will Always Carry Your Love In My Heart'?

On the eve of the SAT, the authorities notify me that I need to claim the body of my father, who has died tragically in prison. My mother comes to me and says she wants my father to take the blame for her first love, Joe Anderson, for a second time. "Where's your dad? Joe accidentally caused a patient's death during surgery. Ask Andrew to go to prison for him again. Consider these two prison terms as compensation for that slap he gave Joe last time. "After this, I'll return to the family and stay with you and your father." I don't even look up as I mumble absentmindedly, "Dad is dead." Mom lets out a scornful laugh and locks me inside a sauna room. Clenching her jaw, she presses the button on the remote control in her hand, turning the temperature up rapidly. Then, she sends an angry message to my dad to threaten him. She writes, "Andrew Miller, how dare you teach our son to lie to me? I'd like to see what kind of stunt you're trying to pull! If you don't want Chester to get hurt, show yourself right now!" My skin turns bright red due to the burst capillaries. I pound desperately on the door, trying to explain and beg for help. But Mom is busy comforting the frightened Joe and pays no attention to me at all. As my body becomes severely dehydrated, I let out a bitter laugh. I sneer inwardly, "Mom, Dad and I are making it up to your first love with our lives. Is that enough?"

My mother was the president of a listed corporation, she was both rich and powerful. More importantly, she loved me more than anything in the world. Meanwhile, my father was a man who cheated on her. When he found out his mistress was pregnant with a girl, he beat her until she miscarried and ended up in prison. So when the judge publicly asked me to choose between my mother and my father, everyone assumed the custody battle was just a formality. That was until I walked past my mother's trembling, outstretched hand and firmly chose my father instead. Everyone was shocked into speechlessness. In my previous life, I had chosen my mother, the one who spoiled me rotten. She was the type to buy the whole bakery just because I casually mentioned I wanted their cake. When I complained it was too sunny, she immediately arranged for four helicopters to put up a sunshade cloth and shade me. She even deposited a hundred thousand dollars on my school meal card because she was worried I wasn't eating well. Even though she spoiled me like a true princess and paved the way for me through life, I don't want anything to do with her in this life.

Just because I ate one chicken leg more than my brother, my father kicked me out of the house in the middle of a snowstorm. Later on, my father of an archeologist dug up my body. Due to my missing head, he did not recognize me. Even when he saw that the body had the same scars as I did, he did not care. Later on, my mother dug out my heart and showed it to her students. "Today, we will study the heart of someone with congenital heart disease." She once said she would recognize me no matter what I looked like. Mom, now that the only thing left of me is my heart, do you still recognize me?

I have a secret. Every year on my birthday, I'm taken to the blood donation room and made to give 400cc of blood. All because my mom once told me that the blood running through my veins belongs to a rapist. This is the only way I can wash away my original sin. Because of those words, at eighteen years old and weighing less than 80 pounds, I found myself lying on that donation chair once again. But the second I stepped out of the donation room, a document came flying at my face. I looked up in shock and met my mother's icy stare: "Sign it, and get the hell out of my house." It was a legal notice cutting all ties with me. I stood there frozen, cold down to my bones. Mom—didn't you say that once I'd donated blood eighteen times, I'd finally be your clean child?

My mother hated me, to the point that she wished I were dead. I knew I deserved to die. Sixteen years ago, if I hadn’t insisted on going out, my brother wouldn’t have died while trying to save me. Eventually, both of us got what we wished for. I got brain cancer. She had become a stranger to me as I forgot everything and went to die in blissful ignorance. Then, she went mad.

My mother had a rare disease. After months of dead ends, I found one person in the country who could treat her. She told me there was a price. She said she needed a husband. I agreed. For my mother, I agreed. For six years I was her ATM. I bought her the bags. I bought her the watches. It got worse. She used my money to keep a kept man. She brought him into our bed. The day my mother had her last surgery, she walked out of the operating room halfway through to go celebrate her lover's birthday. The moment they pronounced my mother dead, I decided there and then, she was paying for that with her life.