My mom passed away 20 years ago today. It's been such a long time, but I remember the day like it was yesterday. I won't get into the details of that day, but from that day forward I knew I was never going to be the same again. For months we watched her suffer and at the time I wanted more than anything for her to pull through and live. I honestly believed that she would make it and just couldn't believe that I could lose someone that I loved so much. It seemed impossible and I remember feeling it was all a bad joke and I was being punished. Knowing what I know now, it was the best thing for her. No one deserves to suffer and watching someone slowly die is the most painful thing I have been through. As I watched my mom die, something in me slowly started dying too.
As the years went on and I got older, that part of me that had died slowly started healing. Sort of like a prescribed fire in the forest. You have to kill and destroy something in order for it to grow and survive. I no longer think my mom was playing joke on us nor do I think I'm being punished. When I was younger I use to believe that one day I would be traveling somewhere and run into her. The denial was just a way for me to cope. I use to also think that my dad wasn't my real dad and one day my real father would show up and life would be good. Again denial because I am the carbon copy of the man. We are too much alike that I didn't like him.
Things in our lives happen for a reason and sometimes shit just happens. Whatever it is we as individuals decide how we want to act and treat others. Someone can have the most fucked up childhood, but as an adult, that person can make a decision to either allow their past to rule them and live with a chip on their shoulder or do something about it to move on. Personally, since I have done both, doing something to move on is the longer but more rewarding direction.
Song of the day: "Tell You Something (Nana's Reprise)" Alicia Keys
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