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Dear Prudence: More than a decade ago, when I was 15, my beloved mother died of cancer. My siblings, our dad, and I grieved and stuck close together and moved toward healing. My dad did a great job of seeing us through to adulthood.

In the months before her death, my mother decided to write her children cards and letters to read at different points along our paths: high school graduations, weddings, etc. I believe that doing this helped to steady her during a time of great anxiety about what would happen to her children, particularly a teen daughter without a mother.

My siblings and I have shared some of the letters with one another, and we have appreciated learning more about her early life from them, as well as laughing at her wit and energy coming back to us. However, I'm getting married in a few months, and I am now dreading reading the Wedding Letter from Mom. I understand what she was doing for us, as well as for herself, but the letters cause an emotional upheaval during times that are already emotional enough.

Knowing that the stack is dwindling is painful, but knowing that I have to read them on her timeline is making me a little resentful toward her because it's holding me back from closure.

My aunt stressed to me that Mom never intended to control me through these letters, and I believe that she wouldn't want me to be the perpetual "little girl lost" years after she's gone. But the idea of sitting down and reading through all of them at once so I won't have to open them during big life events seems so final and sad. Any advice?

Prudence says: My heart lurches over your dilemma.

I can imagine your dying mother writing you, the daughter she knows she'll never see become a woman, putting on paper the things she would want to say to you on the eve of your wedding.

What a painful paradox to have your long-gone mother's voice come alive on the page while feeling taken back to the worst time in your life. There also must be something unsettling about getting advice from a mother who knew who you were then but doesn't know who you are now.

Rebekah Gee, a physician and daughter of the former president of Ohio State, experienced the same dilemma you face when her late mother left her a ream of letters — her story was told on "This American Life."

I can see how it could be unnerving to hear your mother's voice anew, speculating about who you are and who you are marrying. I think you should put the letters away for now. You know they're there, and you know your mother did not want you held emotionally hostage to them, so it is not a betrayal of her memory to say, "Mom, I'm going to read these later."

Later could be after the wedding. Later could be years from now. Later could be when your children say, "Mommy, what was your mommy like?" And you say, "Well, I've got some mail from her. Let's read it together."

Send questions to prudence@slate.com.