I was seventeen when I last heard my mother’s voice. Only a couple days away from turning the big 1-8, a few months away from graduating high school. I cannot tell you what her last words were to me on that final day. I cannot even tell you what she was wearing or if I looked into her eyes. I cannot remember a thing about my mother and the day I lost her.
See, the saddest thing about my situation is not merely the fact that I lost my mother, but the fact that she is still on this earth, not too far in fact, just not in my life. I cannot put all the blame on her. I expect she felt torn between me or my father and ultimately chose him. While you may wonder how a mother chooses anyone over her children, sometimes love makes us doing crazy things. Sometimes that type of companionship we seek more than anything else.
In the first couple of years after having been forced to leave my mother’s side, I would sporadically receive phone calls from my father. Most of which were ignored and not returned. That is a whole other story. But after a few years of separation from my best friend, I constantly wondered what she was doing and thought about all of the things my mother was missing out on. I had my own place, I was in college trying to make it to success, I had a great dog whom I knew she would love and a great boyfriend whom I thought we would giggle over when we were alone together. She was missing out on so much and so was I. I needed her for her wisdom and support. Who had better advice than my own mother?
As much it hurt, I did not realize until recently how much this has actually scarred me. It has affected every possible relationship I have by making me unable to trust and simply waiting for the day those I care about leave me just like she did. Never to be heard from again. As many letters as I wrote to her over the years, I never heard back. I called and asked her voicemail if she wanted to meet for lunch one day, my treat. Finally a few months ago I decided to send one final letter and attach my email address. Neither of my parents were really ever “tech savvy”, but I knew over the years my mother had improved. Sure enough. There sitting in my email, about a week later, it had his name. Everything is always in his name isn’t it? We cannot lose even the smallest bit of power or control. When I saw it I just sat there. I was by myself that morning. My boyfriend worked that Saturday so there I sat. Afraid to be alone if it was bad, but desperate for a hug if it was good news. In my letter I had asked her to simply tell me what she wanted. Did she want a relationship with me or not. It was short and to the point. But now, sitting there staring at that name, it did not seem quite so simple.
I am not sure how long I sat there, my heart racing, just staring at that name. I had not heard or seen his name in a long time. Even then just his name made me feel like a little girl, afraid. But it wasn’t from him, not this time. This was her. What if…She wanted to see me? Would I finally be able to see my mom? To hug her? Where did I begin our conversation? How could I stop, I had so much to say! She must know every single detail of my life. She needed to know how I changed my lifestyle and became a fitness fanatic and a health nut. She needed to know how I spent my time and the classes I am taking. She must know that I love to travel and I have this great pup at home that she absolutely must meet very soon. She needs to know my current job and how I went from nothing to success and it just keeps getting better. She needs to know her dad is doing okay, he went through hell but he alive and improving every day.
All of these things raced through my mind and my fear turned into excitement. I was anxious to begin our relationship again and form a strong bond like you see on t.v. There was absolutely no way that her email was not good news….but as soon as I clicked on that email, I regretted it. It wasn’t very long. She specifically said she wanted no part of my life..So there I sat. Alone. Reading and rereading that email. At first…nothing. I guess it seemed surreal. There was no possible way that she did not want to be a part of my life, right? She loved me before I was even here how could she not want to be in my life? Then came the tears. My dog immediately knew something was wrong because she got up from her comfy chair and sat by me. The tears poured and I couldn’t make them stop..I eventually tried to workout and they just kept coming so I crumbled to the floor sobbing. It felt like once again my heart being ripped from my chest. Thank God I was alone because unless you are going through this, you could never understand the pain.
I still cannot find it in myself to move on. I told myself after her response I would let it be but I cannot. I have not sent her anymore letters or reached out again but I constantly think of her and what she is doing. There have been times (forgive me) where I have prayed one of would get very ill and the people around us would be forced to call the other. I am not sure my father would call if my mother were very ill…to be honest, I don’t think I would request my family to call my mother if I were to become deathly ill. But somehow, some piece of me hopes my father would let me know, and I could see her. That’s how desperately I want to be by her side again. I just want to see her. It’s one thing to have a mother pass away and leave you, it’s something else when they choose to walk out of your life and you have to act like they are dead, but they are well and alive. They just choose to not have a part of your life.
I do not hate my mother, I never could. Although she is not a part of my life, she is my whole world. The scars will never heal. This has damaged me as a person. I have things I need to deal with, I know I need to talk to someone I am just not ready. How is a stranger ever going to understand? And I am tired of the tears. Every mother’s day, every birthday hers or mine, every Christmas. Every random day when I allow myself to think about it. As a child who has came from such a broken family and lost such an important person, it has forced me to make the decision to never, ever have children of my own. People around me always say I will change my mind but you need to understand something: Family, apparently, was not meant for me. God has a different purpose. While people chose their own mistakes, and they wreck their families, scars affect each person differently. My wounds will never heal unless by some miracle my mother comes back into my life. With these wounds I can barely keep myself grounded enough to be there for my boyfriend, much less a child. Granted, I know how to love. But I am constantly on the edge of my seat for them to say they are done, and go their separate way.
There is no appropriate way to end this. I just continue to hope that one day she will come to her senses. At the very least, maybe I can heal.