Mother. Parte Uno 1991

 A mothers love, finale and immeasurable by size. Fills space and time. A mother loves before her child is born, before she’s a mother even. And that love can never be matched. Or copied or replaced. But not all mothers are created equal. Some love in a different way, some aren’t shown the love they may wish or even believe they give to their child.

 Sometimes we know who people are and we decide to ignore it anyway for fear of loneliness. How I wish I was stronger and able to say No and Yes when I meant it. Some people learn from their past some don’t. I learn but I never course correct, and I do believe that why I lost my mother in the end, but lets star at the beginning. 

My first memory goes back to when I was, 4 and I lived in New York in a 3 story apartment with my big brother father and my Mother. I was a child that always kept to herself and really ever heard a no when she wanted something. She had so many toys bags and bags. She was oblivious to her surroundings, vary child like which isn’t a bad thing, normally. But this isn’t a normal story.  

 I only have memories of my mother dropping my brother and I off everyday at school, and taking me to buy toy after school. I remember her cooking in the kitchen, while my brother and I played in our room. My father wasn’t around often he worked all the time, my mother and I would sometimes go see him at our restaurant. What I didn’t know at the time was what she and my father hid from me.

But I would soon know all the truths I didn’t want to know. I turn 5 and still oblivious to the world all around me, but happy. Then something happens to me. 

  

This incident that ripped  through my world and forever left its marks on me like scars from a lions claws right through my soul. A light hart turned black and now filled with uncertainty and despair. A mothers worst nightmare. And yet where was she as this incident was happening to her baby girl? I’ll tell you, she was asleep from taking narcotics. While a trusted father took a more trusting daughters belief and trust in all fathers that would ever cross her path during the rest of her life and completely obliterated it forever. She will never again trust a man, never agin be able to see a father playing with his daughter and not think “what are his intentions” I was five years old, and did not know what to do other then to say no please stop don’t do this all while being ignored and told what to do

 Later on in my adult life as I was dealing with a drinking problem a memory surfaced it was of my mother in her bed ether knocked out for medicine or just napping I don’t know but as i walked past her room I remember thinking why doesn’t she wake up. She must be sick.

 Then lead to bathroom and door shut behind. A little girl no more lost. The next few days consisted of me telling the whole story to my mother and cops and courts and being taken but she…never missing a beat, taking me to the doctor and then calling the police. Even though she was told not to involve the police if she was going to stay with him. Well she did not listen then regretted her decision. A trade mark of hers I would later learn she had a habit of doing. The police evolved and my father in prison, we went to visit him on a regular basis, that is until I was taken from my mother and placed with my uncle along with my brother.

 This is the time we lived with my Uncle, my Mothers older brother. Yeah not a grate time. I don’t have any good memories from that short time. I do have a few clear memories however. First we didn’t have the best sleeping arrangement, I slept in the living room on floor on a cot. I remember being afraid. Another memory is the time we were all walking down town and I found found 100.00 dollars on the ground, a man dropped it. I saw the man before I had a chance to tell the man my Aunt grabbed me and told me to shut my mouth. Then she took it and bought her son 2 big toys and me and my brother 1 small toy. That was the people we were left with.

 I was not allowed to speak to my mother or see her and even thought I was living with her brother and sister in law, they hid me every time she came . While I cried in the back room as she visited my brother. Until finally I broke out of the room, with a little help from my cousin and ran to my mother from then on I was able to see her. A side note this cousin of mine, you may think oh he helped you see your mother, but that wasn’t without consequences. Later he would molest me as well. My aunt told me as long as I kept it a secret I could see continue to see. My mother on her visits. We weren’t living there vary long after that , my mother told me she wouldn’t have me being raised  by blacks. One day when we were let out of school, my mother showed up and begged my aunt to her her take us to the park, once she agreed my mom called a cab and we went to the airport. After we were on the plan I found out we where going to live with father in South America where he had gone to live after he jumped bail, with the help of my mother.

Even thought this story has so many moving parts, I’m going to focus on the dynamic and tails of the trails and tribulations of my Mother and I, while telling you the darkest most painful pice of my life that I call “the incident” what we went through is sad, happy, enraging and so on. We did not have a close loving type of relationship as some would use this frame to describe their relationships, no we had a completely different kind of relationship. Even though she tried on many occasions to change this, I was unenthusiastic about putting in any effort to do so. 

 But ours was a relationship non the less, one that grew into something different, all the time changing as we pushed each other to our braking points and limits and then back again. Saying things that hurt and she said things that I will never forget, and I did things to take advantage of her as she to me. This we knew of each other, and did it even so. As we tested our boundaries as the years went by. There most certainly are stories to be told here. I have been writing this story for years, but perhaps now I will finally find the strength I needed to accomplish this an get it all down, yes perhaps now after 25 years of attempting to write this I will finally, finally finish it this time. 

I only wish my  mother was still alive too read it.