Time heals all wounds. There it is. Black and white; one of the most bold faced lies ever told, and we have all said it, used it, to console either ourselves or someone else. We want to believe it's true and maybe in the back of our minds, if we say it enough ... it will be.
But not for me and not yet.
My mother died long ago. I was young. "Too young" people often say with a sympathetic cluck and a sad head shake. But I didn't understand that. I didn't know. My reality overnight became one without a mother. I was sixteen. (All right, who did it? I heard that...) And I still had to get up and go to school. I had homework and there were dances that I was asked to. I learned to drive anyway. Boys still called and asked me out on Friday nights and we still fogged up some windows down by the dam. (Sorry Dad...we were NOT singing campfire songs...) I lived life angrily; fighting to feel something, anything. I made stupid choices and got into an abusive relationship. Somewhere between his "I love you"s and "You embarrass me"s I felt something, but not what I bargained for. He became the target of my anger one night... our anniversary... when he knocked me to the ground, straddled me and began choking me because I had said something he deemed inappropriate. I beat the Holy snot out of that boy and began to stand a little straighter. I accepted the anger and began to move forward. I had a purpose; no one would ever hurt me again. I shut off and shut out most people. I laughed and enjoyed and had fun; but no one was allowed in. Why? Because no matter how you beg or what you do... they will leave you. I had to be and feel protected...all alone and all the time because your world can end... overnight.
I survived and thrived as some would see it. I graduated high school; though not in the Honor Society~ my grades were no longer good enough with the stress of my "unfortunate situation" and I was turned out~ failure. I went to college where I promptly learned to study all over again to avoid being turned out ~ failure. I made it, graduated, and passed my Board exams, meeting a wonderful man who somehow accepted all my flaws, hangups, reservedness and loved me anyway; believed in me and told me he would love me tomorrow. I loved him back, feeling for the first time in a long time the warmth of hope. Maybe he would stay... We married and have a lovely family and every day... they stay a little longer. I do to. Happily ever after but oh-so-cautiously.
Yet ~ on THIS day, each year I revisit the lie. I am angry; so angry all I can do is cry. On THIS day, my mother died. (did you do it again? you better stop...)
Now most would say, "Look how you've grown. Look what you've done. She would be proud of you." And I hope all of that is true. One day, perhaps I will get the chance to ask her, because at sixteen when she had to leave, I didn't know. But for now? Now with my soon-to-be eighteen year old daughter graduating high school, visiting colleges, preparing for her Senior Prom and a vacation she and I will take to celebrate her life and our budding friendship... Now I'm more angry.
The lie, I realize now was too big to grasp. I never knew or understood all those things and moments I missed. I never realized how cheated I was in my youth to be denied the transition of friendship from parenthood coming from the woman who fed me, changed me, helped me when sick, colored pictures of Snow White with me, wrecked her kitchen so we could play store, taught me to cook, taught me that there will be very few true friends in your life.... I am angry she wasn't one of them. I am jealous of my daughter because she gets to do these things. I am envious that she doesn't hurt now and will not be shocked by the ripping open of these old wounds and the indescribable pain later in her life...with her daughter. Because I am here. I love her and I am proud of her and I have written letters to her since she was born so she will always know how I felt (good and bad) about each step of her journey. I tell her often. I sing songs to her about how "Amazing" she is to me. But when I turn around MY mother is gone. There are no inside jokes, no long walks, no epiphanies of life and love that Madi and I have shared. There never were. And that hole is still there; huge and empty and ... angry. It has not shrunk with time. I have not outgrown my childish wishing she were here to hug me and brush my tears. I have not become an adult in any way when it comes to her. I want my mom. Today and on her birthday, I just want MY mom.
I never asked to learn the lesson that life is short. I was not given the choice. I had to accept it as an ugly and cruel truth and keep on living and at times, I didn't even want to do that. But I am here. I am blessed with family and friends and we laugh with each other, console, and even get mad once in a while. And we forgive. We tell each other our feelings so we know; are certain... because if you don't ... if you're not sure... if you remain angry and don't forgive... that makes a wound.
And time won't heal it.
I love you Mom. I miss you as much today as I did that morning.
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