Below is the first chapter of the biography I was going to write. I remember it being very hard and emotional for me to get this down on paper which is probably why it got put away and not read again until now. For the purpose of this blog I did edit for length but other than that it’s exactly how I wrote it years ago. This describes what it was like to see my mother after 17 years. It’s important to note that it was also the last time I seen her and it’s already been another 15 years.
Chapter One
It was an early September day in 2005 when the phone rang and it was my Aunt on the other end. My mother was one of five kids and my aunt is her younger sister. When I was a kid I was closer to her then any of my other aunts and uncles and that is mostly because she was the only sibling that my mother didn’t alienate. She was the only one that my stepfather would allow to come around on a somewhat regular basis. Her house was my safe place when I was a little girl and anytime that I could escape to spend the weekend with her was an escape that was greatly welcomed. She allowed me to be a kid. She would do fun things with me, like making cookies, going for walks to the park and sometimes she would even take me to get my hair done. She would just do things that made me feel special, make me feel safe and loved.
“You have every right to say no if you want to but I would really like you to think about it before you answer”. I wasn’t at all prepared for what she was going to ask and it was the farthest thing from my mind. “Your mother is coming here for thanksgiving and I was wondering if you wanted to come too?’” In that moment I felt everything and nothing all at the same time. I had worked so hard to just stay numb and to not think about her but in that moment a flood of memories came back to me. I had so much to say but I couldn’t find the words to say it. “Morene, are you there?” “Yes auntie I am here just in a bit of a shock. I am going to have to think about it.”
It had taken me a long time to master my ability to block her from my mind. I had stopped thinking about her on every holiday, birthday and every other major event in my life. It had been 17 years since I had seen her, with the exception of the few death glares I received in the courthouse during the trial. While I waited to testify they kept me in this little room with white walls. The outside wall had a large window. There was a little orange love seat with some sort of scenery picture above it and a small table with 3 chairs in the center of the room. The room didn’t make me feel safe; if anything it made me more nervous. Every time the door opened my heart would race and I would get scared but it was usually someone asking me if I needed anything. I guess they didn’t understand that coming in and out the entire time just make it worse. Then the door opened and it was my lawyer telling me it was time to go. I walked out of the “safe” room and down the hall. My mother was on the bench to the left of the big double doors that lead into the courtroom. I tried not to look at her but I couldn’t help it. She was leaned over as far as she could without actually falling off the bench. The muscles in her face were so tight that she looked like she was eating sour candy. I was her sour candy; I was what made her look like that. Her glare was so intense that I thought I might die, that I might go to sleep that night and not wake up. I clearly remember thinking to myself “I wonder if it’s true. That looks can kill.”
The trial was something I tried not to think about. It didn’t end the way it was supposed to. The bad guys are supposed to go to jail, not walk out. The system had failed me, my mother had failed me. Still, I didn’t instantly say no. I had longed for her love for a long time. I prayed that she would come back to me, love me again, be my mom. That day didn’t come and eventually I did give up. I did stop praying for her love. I stopped calling her mom, and for years had only called her Bonny and even that didn’t happen often.
I called my aunt a few days later and said I would go. I needed to get some questions answered. I didn’t want to take my kids with me. I didn’t think she deserved to know them. I guess it was also that I didn’t want her to be a part of their lives just so she could abandon them one day, like she did to me and my two sisters. It was only about a year after Bonny started to date my stepfather that he convinced her that things would be better without them. I remember him telling her about all the tings they could do if she didn’t have to stay and take care of the little girls. I, on the other had was already 7 and wasn’t as much of a burden. I could help with chores, I could stay home by myself, and I would do what I was told. And so when their father got out of jail she put them on the first flight back to Nova Scotia. She didn’t tell me. I just remember coming home from school one day and they were gone. I didn’t see them again for 11 years.
I wanted to take my husband but he refused to go. He didn’t think he would be able to sit in the same room with her and not tell her exactly what he thought of her. I knew he was right, he’s not the kind of man that can sit and keep his mouth shut. He wouldn’t be much help. He wouldn’t be the support I needed. In the end he wasn’t a support at all. I was so angry at him for that. This wasn’t about how he felt, or about what he thought of her. It was supposed to be about being there for me, about giving me that chance to have some sort of closure and about getting some answers. He is the kind of man who sees only black and white, no grey. He could never understand how I could even love her. Why I couldn’t just turn my feelings off. He didn’t understand why I even cared. Maybe that’s what happens when you grow up with great parents and a childhood to be proud of. Maybe he couldn’t understand because he is one of the lucky ones who have never suffered any sort of abuse. He grew up the way I dreamed of.
In the end I decided I couldn’t go by myself so I took my youngest son. He was only one and a half and I reasoned that if it didn’t work out, if we never saw her again he was so young he wouldn’t remember her or the visit. I needed to have someone with me that loved me. He was my comfort and I was very glad to have him there.
So on a Wednesday afternoon I prepared for our trip. I packed a small bag for me and one for my son. It included all the essentials as well as my son’s favorite toys. I also prepared a small photo album of pictures. There were pictures of the day my kids were born, the day I graduated high school, the day I graduated college, the day I was married and them some random pictures from over the years. She had missed everything. She wasn’t there for any of it.
I took the long way. I wasn’t in a big hurry to get there. It should have been a one day drive but I stopped for a night and made it a two day trip. When I stopped I realized I forgot our bags at home. It was too far to turn around and so I ended up going to the local Wal-Mart to pick up a few things. I travel all the time and never forget anything but this time I forgot everything.
I took my time driving to my aunts the next day. I arrived around supper time. I pulled off the highway onto my aunt’s country road and stopped the car. Was I really ready for this? Maybe I should just turnaround and go home. I sat there for about an hour trying to get the courage to keep going, to drive the last km to my aunt’s house where she was. My son had been sleeping the back seat and was now waking up. He was starting to cry. He had been sitting in the car for a long time now and was getting squirmy. I started the car and drove that last km.
I pulled in the driveway and I took my time to park, to get out of the car, to get my son. I had never been here before. I t was a cute house nestled up against a hill and surrounded by huge pine trees. To the left was fire pit that sat in the middle of the lawn. My aunt came out of a set of patio doors and onto the porch that sat at the front of the house. She smiled, walked down the four steps onto the driveway and gave me a huge hug and asked me if I was ready for this. I told her I was as ready as I will ever be. I picked up my son and walked into the house. She was sitting at the table with her boyfriend and my uncle. She didn’t look anything like I remembered. She was overweight, her hair was straight and stringy, and her skin looked like leather. Time had not been good to her. She got up from the table and started to walk toward me. I put my son down on the floor and met her halfway. She broke down crying, grabbed me and hugged me tightly. She kept saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I wanted to tell her good, you should be but instead I said, “Its ok mom.” I don’t know why I called her mom. I think that it was because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by calling her Bonny.
This hug, these feelings brought me back to a time when all of this pain was fresh. It reminded me of being 11 years old and how every night I would pray that I wouldn’t wake up the next morning. I would ask god to kill me because the pain was just too much to take. I asked him every night for months to please just let me die, to let me go to heaven. But every morning I would wake up and I would be so mad at God. Then I started to think that if my own mother didn’t love me, maybe god didn’t either. Maybe I was a bad girl, maybe I didn’t deserve to go to heaven. And so at 11 I took control of the only thing I could, I stopped eating. I tried to starve myself to death. If I would have known any other way I’m sure I would have tried it. I ended up getting pretty sick and spent some in the hospital.
I spend most of the weekend in any room that she wasn’t in. I could hardly look at her. I realized quickly that she wasn’t the mother I had hoped she would be. She wasn’t what I had dreamed of. If there had ever been a bond between us in the past it definitely wasn’t there anymore. I love my children and our bond is one that could never be broken by anything or anyone, especially a man. She is my mother but she is not my mom.
I spent more time talking to her boyfriend then I did talking to her. He seemed nice enough. He talked about his kids and how much he loved them. He told me about how he and Bonny spent lots of time with them and his grandchild. I think that he really did love her and that would have been a change for her because she always seemed to attract men that had nothing good to offer. He told me that she had a lot of regrets and knows that she had made a lot of mistakes. He told me how she was scared and really nervous to come and see me and that she was hurting too. I laughed, and told him that she was responsible for the hurt she was feeling. That it was her choices that put her there. If she would have chosen me we wouldn’t doing this right now.
Bonny spent most of her time outside with her boyfriend and my son. I watched them from the kitchen window. I didn’t trust her and so I didn’t let them out of my sight. I’m not sure what I thought she would do but I just felt better if I could see him. They took turns pushing him around on a little bike that my aunt had. She followed him everywhere he went and if he sat in the dirt to play, she would sit with him. If he wanted a drink she would get it for him. I guess he was just as much of comfort to her as he was to me. He didn’t know or understand what this meeting was about. He didn’t have any preconceived notions. He didn’t judge her.
I would escape each day for a few hours. I would take my son into town to play at the park, go to the grocery store or do any running around my aunt needed done. My aunt is a great cook and so thanksgiving dinner was amazing. We all sat around the table, laughing and joking. We talked about everything except the elephant in the room. We didn’t talk about the past at all until the morning I was leaving. I had gotten up at 6 am so I could be out of there by 7. I didn’t have to leave that early but I just couldn’t stand to be there any longer. I was at the table drinking coffee when she walked into the kitchen. I’m not sure how the conversation started but she told me that she really wanted to make our relationship work. That she was sorry I had to go through everything on my own. I told her it was fine. I was fine. I had gotten through it all and came out stronger and I was the better for it. I told her about when my daughter was born. I told her that she was about an hour old and we were in my hospital room alone. I uncovered her and was counting her toes and fingers. Touching her full head of black hair and looking into her most beautiful blue eyes. I made her a promise in that moment. I promised that I was going to be the best mother I could be. I was going to protect her from the bad in the world for as long as I could. I was always going to be there for her and that I would never walk out on her and that I would never give up on her. I was going to do everything for her that my mother didn’t. That I was going to be the mother to her that I should have had, the mother I deserved to have. I told Bonny, “I didn’t want to be anything like you, and I’m not.” She leaned over and gave me a hug and told me that she understood.
I got up from the table, got my bags and took them to the truck. She was hugging my son when I came back into the house. She gave him a little car she had bought him the day before. He took the car and gave her a kiss. I could see her eyes tearing up as she handed him to me. I took him outside and buckled him into his car seat and started walking back to the house to say good bye. She and my aunt met me on the porch. I hugged my aunt, and then her. She told me she loved me and that she would call soon.
As I pulled out of the driveway I could see her in my rear view mirror, waving. As soon as she was out of sight I pulled over to the side of the road and cried uncontrollable. I hadn’t cried all weekend, I hadn’t really let myself feel at all, I had managed to stay numb. That’s how I’ve done it for so long. I just stay numb and pretend it doesn’t bother me. I got out of my car, got my son out of his seat and just held him on the side of the road. We sat in the ditch together picking flowers for a little while. He came and sat on my lap facing me, took my face in his little chubby hands and gave me a big slobbery kiss and said “wove you momma”. It made me smile. We got back into the car and headed home.
