Tag: divorce

The Day You Died

On April 15, 2003, you died, but I died too. The girl I was up until that day, died. She died in a car crash along with her mother. A part of grief that hurts so much is that you’re dealing with a loss and the loss of yourself, because you really do not know how to go on without the person. After that day of loss, I lost myself too. I had to rebuild myself and adjust without you on Earth. The new me, is missing a lot of parts; only ones a mother could fill.

Everyday I hear your voice come out of my mouth, not what you’d say but your actual pitch and tone—It’s terrifying and amazing but it makes me fearful of speaking at times.

Sometimes I see your face in the mirror when I’m putting on my make up, and I briefly gasp and look away. I’m turning into you more and more.

I hear your voice in my head all day-saying what I think you’d reply to my usual million questions. I have conversations with you, and imagine the advice you’d give. I have searched (and will continue to search) everywhere for that feeling only a mother could provide-that calming feeling of relief that “everything will be okay.” To say I miss you does not apply. As miss means “fail to notice, hear, or understand.” I always understood you the most. My entire being aches from your absence. I cry and scream, and hold my two hands together, pretending one is yours, to comfort myself, as you taught me.

Hearing your voice in mine, seeing your face in mine, is all I have left of you.

Parenting Isn’t For All

Many people want to be parents, but it doesn’t mean that they should be. My mother always wanted children. She didn’t need to say it, I could tell. She was 28 when she had me. My father was 24. He was not ready to be a parent. He once told me that loved her, but he wasn’t ready to marry her. But, she got pregnant, and his parents forced him to-I think. Anyway, he was definitely not ready. He was handsome and had a lot going for him.

My mother was attractive too. She lacked self esteem. I know she was heavy growing up, and she was bullied. Her mother was physically ill, and she was left to do a lot of chores. Otherwise, she seemed to have a pretty normal childhood.

I think she got pregnant on purpose. My mother was textbook codependent. Her happiness came from others. After her divorce, she dated anyone.

My father was very angry after their divorce. I could see why he was bitter. He married a woman when he wasn’t ready, bought a home, and created a good life for his family. He became an adult too soon. Then, the woman he married left him, and took away his children. He knew she wasn’t mentally fit, but the court decided she was. After that, he made it his life’s work to destroy her…and eventually he did.

My mother was fragile and needy. She would do anything for the man of the moment. Once, she woke us up at 2am on a school night because her boyfriend needed to make an emergency trip to Manhattan. Once my father found out, child protective services showed up at our school. My mother loved us, she truly did. Her love is probably what got me through all of her bad decisions.

When my mother would do irresponsible things, like taking us to a shady NYC neighborhood at 2am on a school night, my father would retaliate. That would usually come in the form of consistent bad mouthing to us-as if two little girls could do anything about the situation. Or, he wouldn’t give her child support (which wasn’t much anyway). Again, not really great outcomes for two little girls.

So, as you can see, parenting isn’t for everyone. I often question why my mother wanted us so badly. I know part of it was because she lacked so much in herself. She was an intelligent and beautiful woman, but she did not go to college. Did she purposely get pregnant because everyone else was? Society expected her to? She once told me that even though she was smarter, than her brothers, her parents would not pay for college.

I get so angry at both of them. Why did they have us? Why did they bring us into this world, give us a crappy childhood, and then die young? Leaving us to pick up the pieces. I’m still very angry. So I stand by my statement, that parenting isn’t for all.