Comparing Scar: A Lifetime of Grief

I was raised by a single parent, my mother. I've been called a mama's boy more times then you can imagine. In middle school anytime someone said anything inappropriate about her I'd kick there ass. She loves me unconditionally much like parents do and I understood that I had to do my part to keep that love stronger than ever. It's wasn't like I would ever lose a mother's love but I tried to exiled in everything I do to show her my gratitude. What better way to show her I love her, right? There was one time in my life where I felt like I let her down and I swore I would never do that ever again and to this day I think I've kept true to that.

Lately I have been digging into my families past, asking questions and what not. I felt I needed to know my own family and way it is how it is. In the case of my mother I found a lifetime of sorrow, sadness, regret and anything else you can think of. I found a woman who through her fate gain strength to carry on in a world that hasn't been kind to her. You look at her and you wouldn't know it. She hides the pain behind a strong sense of humor much in the way I do, only that she doesn't it better than I could ever do.

My mother and her brother were molested as children by their father and unless someone you love more than anything in this world went through something like this, you can't begin to comprehend my pain or there's. It's worst then death! To cause pain to an innocent, defenseless child kills me. Yes it didn't happen to me personally but it might as well have. That's how bad it makes me feel. I knew little about my uncle because he passed away when I was a new born. I believe the story goes that he held me as a new born and a week later he died. My mother welcomed her last son and buried her closest brother around the same time. Through the years I found out that my late uncle and mother had the closest bond out of all 10 children my grandma and grandpa had. It wasn't until recent that I begun to understand why that bond was made. They shared in a grief and if I'm consoled by anything it's that they had each other through the tragedy. My uncle kept this hidden from his family and took it to his grave. It's something my mother plans on doing as well. My mother never told anyone in the family because she didn't want to ruin it. It would have killed her mother and who knows what domino's would have fallen. I could never understand how someone can protect the person that has cause them so much pain. These people must pay for what they do. What runs through someones mind when they choose to take part in such a horrific act? Do they know the harm there causing their victim? Some never recover from it and those who do never really do. It makes me give up hope in humanity when I find out that people are capable of this. Not only this but much worse if there is anything worse.

When I found out that this had happen to her on more then one occasion I went through a stint of depression. There were days (and there still are when I'm reminded) were I can't function properly. To this day I have my days were I try to drown it away by booze or sleep. In my mind I can only hope tomorrow brings better things and a bad memory but unfortunately that's not how it works. It's literately the first thing I would think the next morning. It's what nightmares are really made of. I'll look at her smile and carry on in only the way she can and I think about how much shes masking, how much she's holding in. As a loved one all you want to do is protect them from harm. It made me feel hopeless that even with your strongest convictions you can't always protect the one's you love. You can't be there every hour of every day.

When she was old enough to leave the house she did. She found an escape in my father. She was drawn by what my father claim to represent and I use the would claim because she would later find out that it wasn't who he really was. My mother told me she never loved my father. She respected him but never loved him. They had three kids. None out of love. Most of us weren't planned pregnancy's and those of you who were, great! You are the selected few. What I'm trying to say is most of us weren't planned but at least a major portion if not all are conceived out of love. Now let me repeat my mother never love my dad. You don't know how much it fucks with my head that someone like myself who yearns so much for one persons love wasn't even made out of love but in spite of it. To me that worse then knowing you were an accident.

My father cheated on my mother with her own sister while she was pregnant with my other brother. Yet she took him back. Everything she owned she bought with her own hard earn money because my father never gave her money for anything. Not even for us. After 22 years of marriage she decided to call it quits. She's happily married now but still suffers through stints of anxiety actions. Especially when her two other boys look for her only when they need something from her or when its convenient.

So call me a mama's boy because I'll call her everyday. Call me a mama's boy because I think about how she would feel before I get my hands dirty doing something wrong. My mother has suffered a lifetime of grief and it would kill me if I did anything to cause her one more bit of pain. So please call me a mama's boy because that will mean I'm doing something right.