I would not be able to feel good about myself, if I did not do for my mother, what she did for me. This is the natural connection that I can not deny, and attempting to do so over the years, trying to ignore it, has taken a toll on me. I have even found myself arguments, and heated debates over whether or not my mother is “Resting in peace”, and that I should simply forget, or “brush off’ what I have not been able to do. For the latter of my quest for closure, I did believe that she was resting in peace, and because of that I did not rock the boat, while the basics were not being done. I stayed silent and to myself. It was astonishing to see the contrast between her way of doing things for us, vs the way things were being done, self-serving, self-centered, insensitive to her needs, and the relatives who loved and know her before us. It seemed all too convenient, and the quickest way to not have to deal with her as she was, prior to her untimely passing, because she was at her weakest and most vulnerable, and she was not being cared for or protected, or validated. And by validated, I mean her mental illness battle, had already become a burden, and she was treated as though she should not have it, and that I found extremely unfair, disappointed and very sad. This is not at all the approach she took, especially in her day to day tasks while raising us, giving back to her legacy, is showing respect to her, and God for the blessing of a good mother.
Empathizing and understanding why certain decisions were made, by putting myself in a mother’s shoes, my mother’s shoes, this helps me to make sense of the decisions she made, as a young woman, while being in the heart of the city, without consistent support from her husband. There are so many factors that affected her decisions, and she may not have had the time or resources, or options, that I have had being in the city alone. During the most struggling times, I’ve asked myself, How did she navigate the city all the time, car-less? The cost of a taxi adds up, and back then there were wondered how did she do it? Alone with a handful of children, including a toddler, plus a baby in a stroller, with her petite frame, youthful appearance, and mild demeanor. When the subway line goes down with little to zero notice, and the crowds at the platform accumulate as the announcement is made on the intercom, that there will be no service from _________ to ___________ station, shuttle buses will be outside waiting at __________, how did she decide the best way to make it CLOSEST to home, especially during unpredictable, bad weather?? and what if the baby starts crying, and needs a diaper change, and there’s no washrooms or “family” washrooms, available for use at the station?? Not all stations have washrooms, too, so she’d have to exit the station, regardless of the swarming crowd, and find the nearest appropriate, clean, family-friendly restaurant, and use their washroom. How will she make it through the anxious crowd, moving slow and fast simultaneously, to find the elevator, to help us get to the main floor as fast as possible. And, what if there is a long line of even ore anxious people at this elevator, or no defined line up, causing the impatient crowd to become even more agitated…
Mom’s patience and poise, taught me how to put these daily hiccups in perspective, which has helped me survive the city.
My purpose not in vain, I truly felt that way, and I told myself that any hits, bullying, slander or betrayal that cracked my heart, would eventually heal through the years, and the greatest most relevant lesson, that I could learn, was my understanding and respect for life and death, would be solidified, which was all worth it for the bigger picture was bigger than me. When this all I would no longer fear losing anyone or anything in this life, and I will proceed to live by the principles ingrained in me, with no hesitance or fear of anyone or anything. This I did, and I was proud of myself, but as the season changed to fall, I felt as though my year to-do list was incomplete, and I could not shake that feeling, which caused me to feel guilty. Then the dreams of her ensued, she would appear in my dreams from time to time, as she always did, but this time, my spirit started feeling as though I was on the clock. Time felt as though it would run out for me, to do what was right, as this required a group effort. The blessing of moving, I thought would help me secure the closure that my soul desires and needs, this is only natural. A piece of me, a hole in my heart, will remain until the mission is complete.
I would not be able to feel good about myself, if I did not do for my mother, what she did for me. This is the natural connection that I can not deny, and attempting to do so over the years, trying to ignore it, has taken a toll on me. I have even found myself arguments, and heated debates over whether or not my mother is “Resting in peace”, and that I should simply forget, or “brush off’ what I have not been able to do. For the latter of my quest for closure, I did believe that she was resting in peace, and because of that I did not rock the boat, while the basics were not being done. I stayed silent and to myself. It was astonishing to see the contrast between her way of doing things for us, vs the way things were being done, self-serving, self-centered, insensitive to her needs, and the relatives who loved and know her before us. It seemed all too convenient, and the quickest way to not have to deal with her as she was, prior to her untimely passing, because she was at her weakest and most vulnerable, and she was not being cared for or protected, or validated. And by validated, I mean her mental illness battle, had already become a burden, and she was treated as though she should not have it, and that I found extremely unfair, disappointed and very sad. This is not at all the approach she took, especially in her day to day tasks while raising us, giving back to her legacy, is showing respect to her, and God for the blessing of a good mother.
I was okay to do what was needed, regardless of all of the negative and counterproductive behaviour all around me, which took the focus off doing what was best for her, and us.I was moving accordingly, being in the moment and that was perfectly fine and okay, and dreams were not my point of reference, although I always take all of my dreams and visions into account. They sometimes help and guide me to a degree. The one dream that helped me the most, I may have mentioned in a previous blog, this is the dream that I had in the first week of her passing. I remember she appeared standing before me, as her younger self, looking to be in her early thirties, she was a heavier, chubbier in the face, and her hair was pulled back like she used to wear it. I was happy and to see her, feeling comfort and relief. I noticed the room was white, and there were some my mother’s ancestors, that passed on, sitting in the background. I told her that I was trying to do the right thing, and I was not sure what else that I could do, while receiving great opposition. She told me that what I was doing was right, and I should continue on, and not worry about the others. I was going to anyways, and I appreciated seeing her, my confidence was boosted, my purpose not in vain.
My purpose not in vain, I truly felt that way, and I told myself that any hits, bullying, slander or betrayal that cracked my heart, would eventually heal through the years, and the greatest most relevant lesson, that I could learn, was my understanding and respect for life and death, would be solidified, which was all worth it for the bigger picture was bigger than me. When this all I would no longer fear losing anyone or anything in this life, and I will proceed to live by the principles ingrained in me, with no hesitance or fear of anyone or anything. This I did, and I was proud of myself, but as the season changed to fall, I felt as though my year to-do list was incomplete, and I could not shake that feeling, which caused me to feel guilty. Then the dreams of her ensued, she would appear in my dreams from time to time, as she always did, but this time, my spirit started feeling as though I was on the clock. Time felt as though it would run out for me, to do what was right, as this required a group effort. The blessing of moving, I thought would help me secure the closure that my soul desires and needs, this is only natural. A piece of me, a hole in my heart, will remain until the mission is complete.
Continuing from where I left off..She was always creating, bringing something useful, fruitful, out of whatever she had available, a trait of hers I observed as long as I can remember. After her passing, I made sure to uproot the small tomato vines from her garden, that were still thriving, to give to the relative, who cared to keep it growing. There is so much that she provided us, as a blueprint to assist us with life, based upon the seeds she planted.
A blessing, we could not have asked for more, and I truly felt appreciative to God, for helping me understand how to accept the physical loss, although my heart was breaking slowly. My spirit felt light and relieved, feeling in tune with who she really was, more than I ever had before. Feeling centered, feeling as though the leader that I’d always had inside of me was finally activated. I truly wanted to show her and God, that I was actually listening when she spoke in her poetic, yet gently blunt manner. Her efforts were not in vain, nor was her time and energy. This is, and was the most important, to me at least, for this is what builds and molds a person into who they will or may become. I thought that if I had children, I most definitely would apply the lessons that she left me with, to the best of my ability, this I vowed to do, and I thought this would help to preserve and protect her legacy. It is said that culture is passed down through the mother, so if I inherited, and learned some of the best of her character, then this I will leave here as well through actions.
I was okay to do what was needed, regardless of all of the negative and counterproductive behaviour all around me, which took the focus off doing what was best for her, and us.I was moving accordingly, being in the moment and that was perfectly fine and okay, and dreams were not my point of reference, although I always take all of my dreams and visions into account. They sometimes help and guide me to a degree. The one dream that helped me the most, I may have mentioned in a previous blog, this is the dream that I had in the first week of her passing. I remember she appeared standing before me, as her younger self, looking to be in her early thirties, she was a heavier, chubbier in the face, and her hair was pulled back like she used to wear it. I was happy and to see her, feeling comfort and relief. I noticed the room was white, and there were some my mother’s ancestors, that passed on, sitting in the background. I told her that I was trying to do the right thing, and I was not sure what else that I could do, while receiving great opposition. She told me that what I was doing was right, and I should continue on, and not worry about the others. I was going to anyways, and I appreciated seeing her, my confidence was boosted, my purpose not in vain.
Continuing from where I left off.. I am a piece of the puzzle that needs to be completed, just as I am a piece of both of them, therefore my effort is not in vain. I can at least do this for my Mother, for when she was alive, she did wish and desire this for us.
I thought this was a normal part of the grieving process, so I did not expect the struggle, battle, or to have any negativity attached, because she did NOT carry that energy when she was alive. She did not make life harder, or stressful for others in fact, she actually made life easier, therefore her example should be followed, so I thought, and this will preserve her legacy. I was deeply hurt, and disappointed that her graciousness, at the least, wasn’t reciprocated by the ones who received the most from her. I am still deeply hurt and disappointed, asking myself, How could it get to this point?? Why was it even allowed to get to this point?? Practically erasing her legacy, her hard work, dedication and effort, everything that she built, even the garden that she planted, fertilized, and nurtured to bring forth healthy vegetables and fruits.
I remember eating the tomatoes that grew from her garden, they were very delicious, and I could taste the difference compared to the grocery store tomatoes. I was impressed at how great they came out, considering her garden was so small with not the best quality soil, due to our seasons. She was always creating, bringing something useful, fruitful, out of whatever she had available, a trait of hers I observed as long as I can remember. After her passing, I made sure to uproot the small tomato vines from her garden, that were still thriving, to give to the relative, who cared to keep it growing.
There is so much that she provided us, as a blueprint to assist us with life, based upon the seeds she planted.
The message was not just for me, it was for all of us, so, I made sure to share it with my father, as I thought he needed to hear it. More so than me, and perhaps he will be able to decipher the meaning, even better than me. Since he has been reaching out to us on a consistent basis, which has shown me how dedicated he is to doing what he knows is best for Mom, who diligently worked trying to do her best for us. My dad relayed this to me, and I was happy to hear it, it gave me hope that we can and will, move forward collectively.
I decided last year, that I would do my best to try and understand these circumstances from his view. This has helped me forgive, and heal, to a certain degree. I strive to remain consistent, and empathetic to the pain and struggles that they went though, as getting older has helped me to put myself in their shoes as young parents. Although they were in their early twenties when they started to have us, they did what they knew was best at the time. It’s not easy to make these decisions with perfection without children, so I can understand they were both winging it, as I did (with much caution) in my early twenties. There were so many instances where I tried to make sense of what was going on with him, because his actions did NOT reflect that WE were his first priority. When I grew up and realized that I did not ever expect much from him, yet still trusted him when he was in my presence, then I would at least give him the chance to do what a father is supposed to do for their children.
I am a piece of the puzzle that needs to be completed, just as I am a piece of both of them, therefore my effort is not in vain. I can at least do this for my Mother, for when she was alive, she did wish and desire this for us.
I felt comfort and peace, realizing within a few seconds, this is what’s been missing in my life. Her presence gifted me a feeling of hope, as though ANY and EVERY problem would be solved without struggle or strife. It wouldn’t take a decade to solve a challenge that could be solved in a day, nor would it take so much pain, caused by deliberate push back.
Her caring, productive energy, so forward-thinking…I felt she truly was trying to help us, such an uplifting and inspirational energy. She usually doesn’t speak to me in my dreams, not that she needs to, but I always understand and know exactly the message she is trying to bring to me. She was standing in front of me, holding up a set of lovely curtains that she made herself, I knew this automatically, because she was quite the seamstress when she was alive. Upholstering old pieces of furniture, making them look beautiful and classic, which always blew me away. This was a natural skill she had, that I did not inherit, but always respected and admired her for it, which I told her when she was in the flesh.
Behind her was an array of curtains, of many different, styles, patterns and colours, beautiful, and looked of quality. I thought, How did she do so much work, in such a short amount of time?? And why did I assume that she had less time? This is the thing about dreams, they can immediately make sense, or have you questioning, with logic, which you’re really not supposed to do, because dreams do not always walk straight…
My spirit told me that Mom was trying to show me something, and it was beyond the curtains, so when I awoke, I made note of the dream, and made note to tell my father the next time that we speak on the phone. This was a dream that had a message for ALL of us, and she deserves reciprocity for all that she did for us, with a clean heart. I will continue in my next post, Have good night and Good sleep!
I’m late with this post, please forgive me, I meant to post it after Father’s Day. Been going through a lot, busy, changes in my schedule, and living situation and trying my best to work around it. Regardless, I am grateful, counting my blessings everyday, and always writing nonetheless.
I notice Father’s Day on my calendar as soon as it rolls around, and make a mental note to call or text my father. Father’s day has always been slightly awkward for me since I was a child, for a few reasons. For one, my father was not with us on a consistent basis, as I’ve shared in previous blogs. He went from being a somewhat stable figure in my life, to eventually non-existent. His influence and presence seemed to become irrelevant, and I simply got used to it. After we lost it all, and he was incarcerated, there was no need to keep up with Father’s Day. I was just surviving with my Mother and siblings. We spent an adequate amount of time in women’s shelters, where Father’s Day was obviously not a priority.
I completely forgot about Father’s Day, until it came up in school. Make your father a card day! The teacher announced, and as I loved creating and arts and crafts, I was not enthusiastic. I didn’t want to feel out of place and awkward, but inside I did. I knew I couldn’t tell my teacher that I just didn’t feel like participating. I didn’t go into a category, as the few children who didn’t have a father, because their’s had passed away. They were treated in a very sensitive manner, instructed to sit at one table, and create a card or whatever they wanted. This made sense to me, and I felt empathized with those children, however I didn’t know where I stood. I had no reason to address the fact that my father was locked up, deported or whatever, yet I still felt strange…A part of me almost wanted to tell my teacher, as though I was confessing or admitting that I felt the way I did.
Continuing from the thought of protection…I was taking on a role of a protective parent,unknowingly. I innocently was trying to protect my father from having to deal with reality, the reality that I’ve lived without him. It wasn’t all roses, by any means. I took the hits for his mistakes, we all did, and there’s just no way to diminish that fact. We lived an existence that was completely based on his choices and it changed the course of our lives. Fugitives on the run, no more home, stability, safety no longer a priority. I felt vulnerable, confused but didn’t show it, none of us did. Crying, showing fear, asking why?, asking Mommy where’s daddy going? What’s going to happen to him?? Was completely out of the question. Per usual, I tried to intellectualize the situation, while considering my Mother’s point of view, remaining cool, calm and collected as expected.
I’ve wrote about this in a previous blog, we saw our house on the evening news, watched the police search the front lawns of our neighbour’s houses. I knew at THAT moment my life, our life would never be the same. Father’s role, the responsibility HE held in the situation, wasn’t even a thought, because I witnessed him be assaulted by the police. My sympathy was reserved for him, us and our Mom weren’t even a factor in my mind. Unprotected we were, and we definitely were NOT going to be protected by law enforcement. My father was no longer a part of the equation, he was a non-factor, he was irrelevant in my mind in regards to protection. We were thrown to the wolves, basically. It was just us and Mom, on our own, without our home.
Before all of this, when we had a nice, comfortable, typical middle-class living two parent home, I remember feeling protected. I distinctly remember my father showing up at our elementary school after I mentioned to him that my teacher had hit a child in my class with a “pointer stick”. Do you remember those pointer sticks with the yellow tip that teacher’s used to point a the chalk board? Well my 1st grade teacher, struck my classmate with it, after she yelling at him in front of the class for misbehaving. I was stunned, but quiet as usual, and made a mental note about it. I didn’t intend on addressing my parents about it, it casually came out of my mouth to my father. Doing as he taught me, informing him about an injustice, wrong done by an adult with authority. I felt protected and accounted for that day, especially for the fact that my father came solowithout my mother.
The story isn’t over, I’ll continue in my next post.
Continuing from the thought of, never standing a chance, weovercome, beat the odds, andmanage to maintain some form of consistent communication. We know the relationship with our father is worth the push, although we never had a fair chance. Never had experienced a consistent father, with consistent “normal” father behaviour. Please understand, I mean the basics, that a child with a present father (non-abusive), and active in their lives would expect. Knowing that he will be there in the morning when you awake, and if you ask him a simple question, he will answer and follow through on his word. He will be there most of the time, without turning his back on you out of the blue. Pretty much what we’d expect out of our mother, parenting basics.
We spend our time trying to figure out the catalyst for their offish behaviour, feeling as though we are conducting a life long case study. Accountability falls on us, and we end up blaming ourselves. I’ve realized through time, the communication line I have built with my father, is faulty. I was taking on a role of a protective parent,unknowingly. I innocently was trying to protect my father from having to deal with reality, the reality that I’ve lived without him. It wasn’t all roses, by any means. I took the hits for his mistakes, we all did, and there’s just no way to diminish that fact. We lived an existence that was completely based on his choices and it changed the course of our lives. Fugitives on the run, no more home, stability, safety no longer a priority…I’ll continue in my next blog.
Dawn Lovely says.................. 