by Missy Terry

Created on: October 26, 2009

My biological mother left me and my father, who was then working in another country, when I was just a few months old. She visited an uncle and told him she couldn't take care of me anymore.. That she can no longer wait for my father to come back. I was left sitting on the living room rug, a turnip in hand, and all covered with blisters and insect bites. My uncle had to cry at the sight of me sitting there, happily chewing on the only meal I've had for the day. He called my grandparents, who immediately rushed to my uncle's house. My grandmother said that I was a pitiful sight. And they just could not understand how a mother could leave her child that way. This story was kept from me until I was in high school. I've always been told that my mother had died. I was skeptical though, and only then did I realize that I had every reason to be.

From then on, I secretly hated my mom. I made it seem like I didn't care that she left me. After all, I never even knew her so why should I care? But truth is, the burden of knowing what she did has made me a different person somehow. I would smile and laugh like normal people do. But when the lights go out and I'm in the solitude of my room, I cry until it feels like there are no more tears left to cry.

So tell me, how does one learn to forgive a mother like that? How does one wholeheartedly say, "It's alright mama, I understand", when deep inside you know that you don't. For years I carried that terrible weight in my heart. And for years I silently screamed and cursed at her. I didn't know how to properly cope with the truth about my life.

Then one day, we received news that she had passed. For real this time.. My father was at a loss for words. I knew he still loved her even after what she's done. As for me, I didn't expect that I will cry for her, but I did. Right then and there, I realized that it was not really hatred that I felt. It was more of a longing to have her by my side, and a feeling of frustration in knowing that I could not have that. I realized that, just like my father, I loved her so much more than she'll ever know.

I'm not sure if it was just maturity that's settling inside me. I could not believe that I was starting to understand that she had her reasons for choosing to leave. It may not have been a good one, but it was probably the only choice she had on her plate on that fateful day. In fact, looking at where I am right now and how I turned out to be, I should be thanking her. She knew she couldn't give me the best care so she let me go.

Too bad it took her death to make me open up my heart to forgive her. My only consolation right now is in knowing that she's in a better place. And my only gift to her is my acceptance of the fact that despite of everything that has happened, I really do love her.

R.I.P. Mama

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