It’s the day I never expected it would come this fast.
It’s been two years since mother passed away.
From the very second I was told she has passed away I never stopped feeling the pain of grief I have never experienced this way, it was at times too much to bear, too much to ignore.
The guilt and what if? Was like petrol added to the fire
I would stand at the window in the kitchen, a plate in one hand and a scourer in one hand frozen on the kitchen sink.
My mind hallucinating mother in her white dress, pearl necklace and red lipstick as when I saw her for the last time laying in her coffin-standing under the trees behind the kitchen, smiling at me.
Tears flowing down my cheeks, my chest tight and my head pounding.
My mind a million miles away from my body and the clock of the present stands stills.
Missing the woman I lost for twenty years, only to find her again for the last time without ever having to see her while breathing.
I’ve been hoping for a reunion to heal the wounds.
To kill the pain and to start a journey to opening doors to some answers to the questions I’ve been burying in my heart, weighing me down, and wearing me out of my sanity, and being.
I was hoping we could use this opportunity to build a bridge to connect as a mother and a daughter for the first time ever since I was born in a cruel world full of lies, abuse, disregard, evil and betrayal.
There was always a strange feeling over my body when I talk to mother.
Twenty or so years of no contact have added more strain to an already fragile relationship.
When mother was alive, we talked regularly. When I hear her voice, It sounds eerily strange and unfamiliar to my ears. It's a sound I haven’t heard before.
I felt a part of who she is and what she was like, a part strange to me.
It felt weird, unfamiliar, strange as our relationship as a mother and daughter.
Though this was my mother I was communicating with, but the feeling in my heart was more of a friend to friend relationship.
I noticed mother at times was giving advice that is worth holding on to, and at times she was like a good friend with a good heart that always makes you laugh.
Many times, I wasn’t certain how to push forward towards building a strong pond and a loving relationship that would be strong in every way that would not allow the past to live on.
Mother was strange in many ways, I realized I didn’t know the woman in mother, her characters as a woman her personality as a person.
I grew up knowing mother as just a mother figure, that makes me cry almost every single day of my life, a mother to fear and to resent. I never got to know the woman who became my mother.
Throughout the years I had contact with mother, after we got cut off for twenty years. I had to learn to feel like a daughter would, to her mother.
The years apart, the past that never let me free, all came in the middle, the gap was too wide to be unnoticed.
At times, I felt relieved the conversation was over, at times the conversation cause me depression and pain.
At times mother would message me to call she wants a chat. I would give her a call to talk about her day what she did, what she had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
I found ringing mother at night particularly hard and depressing.
It felt weird, unfamiliar, strange as our relationship as a mother and daughter.
Though this was my mother I was communicating with, but the feeling in my heart was more of a friend to friend relationship.
I noticed mother at times was giving advice that is worth holding on to, and at times she was like a good friend with a good heart that always makes you laugh.
Many times, I wasn’t certain how to push forward towards building a strong pond and a loving relationship that would be strong in every way that would not allow the past to live on.
Mother was strange in many ways, I realized I didn’t know the woman in mother, her characters as a woman her personality as a person.
I grew up knowing mother as just a mother figure, that makes me cry almost every single day of my life, a mother to fear and to resent. I never got to know the woman who became my mother.
Throughout the years I had contact with mother, after we got cut off for twenty years. I had to learn to feel like a daughter would, to her mother.
The years apart, the past that never let me free, all came in the middle, the gap was too wide to be unnoticed.
At times, I felt relieved the conversation was over, at times the conversation cause me depression and pain.
At times mother would message me to call she wants a chat. I would give her a call to talk about her day what she did, what she had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
I found ringing mother at night particularly hard and depressing.
Mother would be watching the TV when I ring her, she would be having a cup of tea. I could feel the loneliness, and it breaks my heart.
I felt it would be better not to hang up, I preferred not to finish the conversation as we talked. I would ask mother for the time on her end, and I would ask her what she’s going to do for the rest of the night.
She would say something like, she is about to go to bed, or she would say she’s going to take a shower as it’s late past 10:00 pm.
When mother want to do something before bed, I would usually say. Okay, I’ll let you go to the shower, it’s getting late.
We say goodbye.
At the end of the conversation I would feel a feeling of sorrow, my heart unease the thoughts of mother living alone hits me hard.
Sadness fills my heart. I feel what I never felt for mother as a mother.
God knows, how many times I wish I have always felt this way about mother.
I would have never lost her for more than 20 years and our lives as mother and daughter would have been perfect, and I would probably still be living with her.
The starting point of our journey as a mother and a daughter was deprived of love and compassion as a result, the roots of a healthy relationship was destroyed and could not be revived for many years to come.
No flood of tears could bring mother back, and no flood of tears could repair the damage done. We would be forever estranged, and I would be forever drowned in the sorrow of a mother and daughter lost in a mysterious world I couldn’t explain.
Grieving took so much from me, I could barely function, I could breathe life in my soul.
Over ten years suffering depression and now, this.
Everything I wanted to ask mother, to get the answers I desperately needed, not for just knowing them, but with hope it will help me move past an agonizing painful childhood memories, ripping through my heart.
Everything was about to change, I’m about to breathe and live again
Cindy and Sara were two sisters who were sadly killed by their mother, then got their brothers to help her dispose of the bodies. (True story)
Stella would beat her children and get their siblings to hold them down as she beats one of the children.
She would order the children to fetch a belt or whatever tool to beat the other child/children with.
It was the story that awakens the memories I have already cast aside, waiting patiently for the day when I can finally and slowly buried them once and for all.
The brutality of a mother towards her children, the cruelty of a woman who’s incomprehensible to any human.
The fear in their eyes, of vulnerability and helplessness. The imprisonments of their gentle souls.
My airways collapse, I felt death all over me. As I questioned Stella cruelty to her blood and flesh, my childhood life of fear and misery gushes through my blood veins.
Images of mother cruelty, without remorse, invaded my mind. Tears start raining down my face, heat of anger raising to my head, hate, and rage towards mother engulfed my body right through my veins.
A moment of intense pain and despair as my mind in turmoil slowly calming down bringing the grief I’ve been carrying around since mother died.
As I lay my head down on my pillow, I felt my heart screaming, tears gushing down my pillow, I couldn’t stop them.
The shower has been a respite for me for years at times of deep sorrow and pain.
I went to the shower and sat under the running water, and just sob.
God knows how long it was.
My poor husband knocking on the bathroom door, checking on me from time to time.
My chest and my head deflated. I bow farewell to the suffering, the pain, the guilt I have been enduring as I grieve a woman known only as a mother figure from the outside, as she wasn’t anywhere inside me.
The throne of a mother in a child’s heart was missing from my heart. No throne, no mother, no crown.
My anger subsided. My heart rested.
The air from outside through my bathroom window smells freedom, fresh and liven.
I felt freedom like a cool stream running through my chest. The burden I’ve been carrying around since mother passed away flushed out of me.
There are no words to describe the feeling in my heart at that very moment.
There is life in the freedom of one's pain and suffering from deep inside their souls. Freedom from guilt and pain inflicted on one’s being by others is a treasure worth searching for.
I may have not been able to serve my parents in the later years of their lives, especially mother since she was living alone after father has passed on and her children scattered around the world, but I believe I could not have changed our destiny even if I really wanted.
Regrets are of no use to anyone, except it becomes a dagger in your heart that prevents you from living, from progress and most of all, a main ingredient in the creation of more regrets if you drown in guilt, forgetting your children and husband emotional needs and time with you.
I’m grateful for this opportunity to see myself through past the narrow neck of freedom and relief from the darkest of countless hours of stormy days and nights, stuck in the mud of an ugly childhood I’m ashamed of.
Mismanaging regrets has a devastating, destructive outcome, not only on you, but those who love you. The people, you could give your life to save theirs, as they would give theirs to save yours.
Though I am free of guilt, grief and regrets, lacking a better word, I still wish things didn’t have to be the way it was.
It’s a bitter freedom, I have managed to live through it and my depression taking a turn for the best. As I unload the burden of my past, a little at a time.
Every day I’m grateful to the kind Lord for what I have, and for the people around me who love me deeply, even when I was a burden to carry for more than a decade due to my depression.
When I look back to the time when I was so miserable at the peak of my depression, I realized how much my husband and my children love and cared about me.
On the other hand, I recognize my struggles and strength battling each other.
I am part of the story, I will not deny myself the honor I deserve.
I will not give myself a lower value than I have earned. I stand tall, determine to highly value and acknowledge my service.
Furthermore, I love, care and appreciate the woman I am.
It’s out of my respect and compassion for my soul that will shape a far better and improved woman in the future(God willing).
I support myself in every possible way to survive and thrive with contentment and peace.
Freedom comes in many shapes and forms. Freedom from the burden of pain and all unfortunate circumstances out of our control is the sweetest of all freedom.
It’s the golden tool, that will allowed you to focus on yourself and what’s essential to you.
It’s the silver plate that will serve you all your success and achievements in life, the things you wanted to gain and did in peace and contentment.
copyright-@Bree
Rip May her perfect soul rest in peace