Tonight I knew my mother...
My parents were never married. My mother gave birth to me while she was still in college. She hid me from her own family and I had never met any relative from her side.
After she gave birth to me, she immediately gave me away to my father’s side and I grew up under the care of my aunt because my dad had to leave and work abroad.
It was my aunt who raised me ever since. She was there for me when I uttered my first word, when I took my first steps, when I marched through the stage during high school graduation and when I finally turned 18 years old. She has given me so much more than I deserved considering that I’m not her own child. Nevertheless, she took care of me, loved me and supported me unconditionally and I am very thankful to have her in my life.
Talking about my mother with my father’s family was a sensitive topic. Even when I was still a child, I could already sense that they never actually liked her. They never said that they hated her nor did they destroy her name in front me, but they never said that they approved of her either. I guess they just couldn’t stomach the fact that my own mother left me and abandoned me without leaving any trace. No one knew the reason why. I didn’t. They didn’t. I’ve always wondered as to why she left me. It wasn’t the kind of question that lingers every day and night, but it’s the kind of question that comes and go and still remains unanswered. There’s a part of me that’s eager to know why and there’s a part of me that wants to let it remain as it is. I’ve always thought that knowing about my mother would be an insult to my aunt. She told me that it was okay with her if I were to question about my mother’s existence but in the back of my mind I kept thinking that maybe she’d feel that she was never enough to completely fill up the hole that my mother left open. I kept my thoughts from my family because I was scared that they’ll think I’ve been ungrateful for everything they’ve done for me. I thought talking about my mother wouldn’t hurt anymore but now do I only realize that the pain never really went away; it just remained buried under the deepest parts of my heart, because before every other person that had the audacity to leave me, it was my own mother. My mother was the very first person who left me.
After my mother gave me to my father’s family, she came back after three years. She was with us for a while before she had to leave for Taiwan (or so I remember that’s how it went). Even though she was with me when I was three, I’ve never really had pleasant memories of her. She wouldn’t allow me to go out and mingle with other kids. She would tell me to sleep in a supine position so that it wouldn’t affect my posture. Good heavens the woman wouldn’t even let me hug any of my pillows! and I was only three! She’d always push me to be an overachiever. She was very strict with her own rules. This was the reason why I never really did like my mother, too. To the very eyes of the three year old me, she wasn’t a mother but a disciplinarian. For some reason, I was relieved that she left for Taiwan. Our communication has been cut off after that. There were speculations that she got pregnant or that she had another family. Of course, those speculations came from my relatives who never really did like her as well.
By the time I was 9, we saw each other again. It was the first time I saw her after 6 years and I didn’t know it at the time, but it was also the last. We spent a day together before she had to leave for Dubai. My aunt knew about it and was actually supportive that we bond as mother and daughter. The whole time we were together I remember I never addressed her as “mom” or “mama”. Whenever I talked to her I tried to get in directly to what I had to say. I never felt her motherly presence because all I could recall about her was the disciplinarian that I wouldn’t want to be with. She tried though; she tried to make conversation and ask about my likes and dislikes but somehow she didn’t get through me. I didn’t feel the connection. I felt nothing at all.
From then on we still communicated until I was 15. Our way of communication was through e-mails. She’d ask me about school and I’d tell her if I needed anything. She used to send me money for my allowance and school. I thought to myself at least she’s trying to make up for the lost years by helping us financially. Until one day, she just disappeared. She stopped replying to any of my messages and it just left me wondering why. What could I have done wrong? All these years I just wanted to know why. It made me feel like I was the daughter she never wanted. Was I never enough? Why? Why could she have left me, her only daughter?
Tonight I had dinner with my mother’s sister. A year ago she messaged me on Facebook and apologized on my mother’s behalf. We communicated ever since. I talked to my aunt about her and my father know about her as well.
But tonight was different.
My mother’s sister asked me to join her and her husband for dinner and asked if I could keep everything to myself. I didn’t tell my aunt or my dad that I was meeting her tonight. Tonight was my decision and I’m glad I went to meet her. It was the first time that I saw her and she’s the only person from my mother’s side who really went all the way and tried to contact me.
She was kind, sweet and joyful—totally opposite as what I can remember from my mother. I instantly felt a connection with her. Over dinner, she told me about their travels with her husband until we finally came to the main topic: my mother. She told me my mother was very sensitive when it comes to talking about me too. She told me that my mother has been very sad and alone for the past few years. Also totally opposite from the life that I expected my mother to have lived. She said my mother made friends but never really kept any of them. She was secretive and aloof; she just wanted to be alone. When I asked if my mother has another family, she said there was none. All these years I thought my mother abandoned me because she has a new family already. But i was completely wrong. From the way I see it, my mother is lost.
Her sister told me she’s emotionally unstable. She used to cry all the time. My mother is currently in Paris and I guess even staying in the City of Love couldn’t fix her. After I knew what my mother’s current situation is, I couldn’t help but feel bad. Sure it was very selfish of her for leaving me to prioritize her personal interest but what else can I do about it? I tried putting myself in her shoes: she got pregnant at the age of 21, she wasn’t able to finish her studies, she had an awful fight with my dad and my family never really accepted her. Maybe I was the constant reminder of how her life went downhill.
Her sister mentioned that my mother is aware of how I’m doing right now (Bingo, totally got my stalking skills from her. No doubt about that). She also told me the actual reason why my mother left me: she was embarrassed and at the same time, she wanted to protect me. My mother apparently felt like I deserve a better life than she could offer and she thinks that is only attainable if I were to stay with my father’s family. She also wanted to keep me away from all the gossip and rumors that go around their neighborhood. Knowing that, I finally understood my mother a little more. Although I couldn’t help but think that it’s because she was never ready to be a mother in the first place. They never planned to have me but I’m still thankful they gave me the opportunity to see the world. Maybe she felt like she was robbed from a life that she could’ve tasted if I hadn’t came any sooner. I guess she needs time to heal and transform herself into a better person. Maybe by then she’d have the courage to talk everything to me personally. Until that time comes, I’ll make sure I’m already the person that she could’ve been proud of.
After the talk that I had with my mother’s sister, I felt a little bit lighter; like a thorn’s been lift off from my chest. I guess in some way my questions have been answered.
For the past few years, I kept thinking it was alright to have the questions remain unanswered, but now I see it’s better to know the answers yourself. Knowing more about my mother and her family made me realize that I got certain traits from them. Not only did I get an answer as to why she left but I also got to know more about myself too. Like my mother, I like Italian cuisine. I inherited my mother’s dimples, hair and even her voice.
I’ve always thought that I’m already whole as a person, but little did I know that pieces of me are still missing and that only my mother could complete those pieces. I’m a part of her and she’s a part of me, whether I deny it or not. You could never actually know yourself until you know your past and how you came to be.
This night made me realize that the answers you seek aren’t enclosed between four familiar walls, but that they are out there in the open and you have to search for them on your own.
pixelskylines
snowghoul
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
titsay
