My mom was sweet, accommodating, generous, loving, kind and beautiful. She was extremely artistic, loved all animals and had fun playing with the mice and whatever else I brought home from school or found on the street. She kept things spic and span and was an incredible cook/baker. She loved to sing, dance and laugh. I just wish she would have had a better life. Her childhood was difficult and my father cheated on her all the time. He didn’t care that she knew about the other women. He broke her heart. I saw it. What parents do to each other teaches their children the real lessons they learn and believe me, I learned really well. I’ll never understand why she loved him and she did, right up to the night she died and he left her alone to go out with someone else, yet again. I couldn’t stand the sight of my father. As a child I felt that if my mom wasn’t smart enough to hate him I was, even though he never did anything to me directly. She loved him but I didn’t have to and I never did. My dad told my mom that he didn’t give her Mother’s Day presents because she wasn’t his mother. He didn’t give his mother anything that I ever saw either. The only time my mom got presents was when he was buying something for another woman and picked something up for her as well. He bought her a watch and she turned to me and said, “I wonder what the other one got.”
See here’s the thing. My mom took it…she took what he did to her and she never fought back. That made me who I am…the kind of person who won’t take anything. That’s what she taught me…not to be like that part of her…ever.