Happy Mothers Day to all of my readers who are mothers. You deserve a special day each year, a day when your children honor you for all you have done to create what and who they are today. That is an amazing achievement. As mothers we weren’t perfect. We sometimes made decisions that were not wise. We sometimes were selfish. We sometimes subjected our children to times that were not the best. But above all; we loved them; we are so proud of them; and for most of us, they are the center of our universe. To me, my four children are the greatest joy I’ve ever known.
I was shopping in Wal-Mart today and saw many people gathered at the display of Mother’s Day cards. I heard all of their comments; “she’ll love this; no, this doesn’t quite say what I want to say; oh so perfect, I have to get this one”, and so on. As always, on Mother’s Day my mind goes to my own mother. It saddens me that I don’t have a mother for whom to buy a card. It saddens me even further that even if I did, I wouldn’t buy her one. My mother died when I was 19. I didn’t cry at her funeral. She had already died when I turned 13 and my father raped me. She had him beat me until I confessed to being the one who did wrong. From that point on my mother was dead to me. When I was 18, my mother had my father beat me so bad it almost killed me. My mother kept screaming, “Hit her again! Hit her again! My brother, 19 years old and 6 feet 3 inches tall came running in and grabbed the belt away from my dad saying, “You’re killing her Dad, stop it.” My father slugged him against the wall and he passed out cold. Then my father turned back to the job at hand. A few days later, I threw a few belongings in a pillow sack and ran.
When I think of what happy memories I have of my mother only one comes to mind. When I was about two years old, she was rocking me and said to me, “What shall I do when my baby grows up?” That’s it! I have a long list of unpleasant memories of my mother, some so devastating that I try never to open that door.
I’m sure many of my readers don’t have happy memories of their mother. Mothers are supposed to nurture us, guide us, love us, accept our shortcomings and love us anyway. And when our child become mothers, they will know to do the same. Their children will no doubt bring up their mistakes from time to time as if it is too difficult to love a mother who had no faults.
First there were mothers…………..for many of us, now there is only us. We must find friends who pick up the slack, good friends, friends who are there when we need them. We must cherish our relationships with all members of our family: cousins, children, grand-children, great-grandchildren, aunt, uncles. But we must avoid anyone who contributed to our child sexual abuse issues and especially anyone who wants us to keep silent about them. It is a part of us; in a way it defines us. Facing it has made us courageous. But above all, we are mothers and proud of it.
