When I tell people that I don't have parents, there first response is to say "I'm sorry." No, don't be sorry. Don't be anything. Just listen to what I have to say, because I promise you that what I'm about to tell you is worth listening to, especially when my mother is attached to the subject in some way.
I am aware that life could be much worse. I could have been in foster care, if I did not have a grandmother that cared for me very much.
I will admit that I had to fight a lot to control my anger growing up, because I could not understand why it was me, who had to go through not having parents. I couldn't figure out why GOD choose me out of all my cousins and all my friends to be the only one who 1. had their mother taken away and 2. had a father that could care less whether I was alive or dead.
But that is just how life goes sometimes...
There is no one to blame.
I cried a lot growing up. I wanted friends who would understand, but most of my friends could not.
There were plenty of times when I felt like an outsider. I just wanted someone to understand how I felt inside. In elementary school when I go to my friends sleepovers, I would always feel odd. They had parents. They are pictures on their walls from when their parents took them to disneyland and Sea World. They were happy. They were loved. I knew that continue to go to these sleepovers would bring me more pain than joy, but I yearned to be apart of something (I was very aware as a child growing up of my feelings and my surroundings. Of course I could never really describe what I was feeling back then).
After my mother passed away I was immediately shipped off to go live with my uncle. But I felt out of place there too. He was trying to start his own family and get his life started. And there I was in a world, that I didn't feel comfortable in and that I didn't belong too. I had nightmares back then. And I would wake up crying. I was a burden to them. I could feel it. Everytime I took a bite out of the food they provided. Everytime I thought about leaving a dish in the sink. Everytime I thought about asking them if I could get anything new. I knew that they were looking at me thinking, "damn, why do I have to put up with her?" So after I had over stayed my welcome I was shipped to another relative. My eldest aunt.
I loved my eldest aunt with all the passion in the world. Just about every summer I was happy to go stay with her. I felt safe there. I felt loved. I always thought that maybe my aunt would adopt me. But she couldn't understand my pain, because her mother was still alive (and she is still groovey still today! YAY!). When she would introduce "her" family. She would introduce her children first. She would speak of their accomplishments and how she was so proud of them. And then I would get introduced lasted. Or sometimes not at all. I never took any of that personal, until one time at a christmas gathering that happen. And that's when I decided that I would no longer go to family functions. Because I'm always that weird topic that no one likes to discuss.
"OH, and who is this pretty young lady?"
"That is my neice."
"Where are her parents?"
Silence
(She doesn't have any...)
And then something would happen to immediately change the subject and I would be forgotten all together.
In middle school I stayed to myself. But these were the worst times because all I wanted to do was go back "home" to the place where all my friends were. I had to move against my desire because my grandmother was moving. And she was my guardian at the time. So where she went I had to follow. I was miserable a lot. I had a lot of "touch and go" friendships. I had a lot of fights because one of my friends didn't like the other and vice versa. And well often I was caught in the middle.
In high school I met another girl who lost her mother like me. And she had a friend that was in the same boat as both of us. She and I were the best friends. We did everything together. We had sleepovers. We went shopping. She helped me get a couple of jobs where she was working at the time. I thought we would always be friends. But, you know people change and I realized that I was no different.
When I finally got a boyfriend after months of complaining and whining because I didn't have one, I really didn't know what to do with him. I know that sounds strange to say, but it is true. What exactly is a boyfriend for? I mean, I had a job. I had emotional support from my bestfriend. So I really didn't need him in my life. But I knew there was a reason that he stayed. And he stayed because I was his only real friend at the time. It works both ways, you know, sometimes you learn a lesson from someone else and sometimes you become the lesson for someone else. In this case, I was his lesson. He was my first real boyfriend. I had no clue what I was doing. But I loved him as best as I could. This was also the time that I was still hurting from the absence of my mother.
For some reason, the pain of her loss didn't touch my life until I entered into high school. I spent a lot of night crying, screaming, thinking horrible thoughts. I spent a lot of time drowning my own misery. I felt it was my duty to save her. To protect her. To bring her back to life. But what could I have done at being seven years old? There was nothing I could have done.
Even now, I still don't think that the doctors my mother had did all they could do for her. But maybe they just didn't have the proper technology that they needed to save her life. Of course, now they have more information on the disease that took her life. That disease being: Sarcoidosis.
Living without parents is difficult. But living without my mother has been the hardest. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish that I could trade places with her. I know that she would benefit from being apart of this world very much and even if she didn't have me, she would still know love. She would never feel empty or alone. She would never feel as if her family abandoned her. And mostly she would never have to feel like a burden.
I think entering into college helped me in my grieving. I met some really good people who could relate to me on loss. The only frustrating part about college was all the technical stuff. All the paperwork. They ask you questions about your parents, where they went to school, how much money they make. Well, they didn't at first, my freshman year, take into account those of us who don't know this information. Now, all of that is broken down. So if you know that type of information you can add it, but if you don't then that's ok too. I think they need more assistance for people who are like myself. This is partly why my dream is to build a sort of community center of children who don't have parents. That way they can meet other children who are going through the same thing they are going through and not feel so alone. They can meet other people who can look them in the eye and say "I understand" with sincerity.
I'm an adult woman now. So, sure I miss my mother but I have choosen to celebrate her memory instead of cry over her absence. There are no amount of tears that will bring her back to life. There are no magical spells or chants and no amount of praying will make her walk on this earth again. Its painful to think of this. Sometimes when I see mothers and daughters when I'm walking in the mall or at the library I think, it must be nice to have your mother in your corner. It must be nice to feel wanted. To belong somewhere. To know that someone wants you. No matter how angry they get with you, or how fussy you become your mother still loves you and if you have your dad in your life then that's another blessing.
These are experiences that I will never get to have, and even though it makes me sad. The lack of these experiences don't stop me from living the best life that I possibly can. I live for the memory of my mother and that's all that matters at the end of the day
No comments:
Post a Comment