I turned my phone off early yesterday & missed a call. A call some might have considered important, but there was nothing I could do regarding the matter, so I'm glad I turned off my phone. The call came from my brother, a person I haven't seen in over twenty years & have tried to have as little contact with as possible. I am not close to my family & it has nothing to do with being gay or HIV+. We all went our own ways long before any of that.
He had called to inform me that my mother had passed. I had known that she was suffering from cancer. I won't go into details, mostly because I do not know them. I choose not to know them. My mother was the proverbial baby-maker, there are eight of kids. Add to the fact she choose not to work, to be an alcoholic & have revolving door men in her/our lives, left me feeling that she was no one's mother. So, I find it ironic that she passed on Mother's Day.
It was over twenty years ago when I accepted the fact that she was never going to change. I knew then that I had two options; hang around & hope for the better or accept the reality of the situation. I choose the latter. A lot of people get pissed off when I tell them I have little to do with my family, especially my mother. They can take their opinions & place them in a very dark place as far as I am concerned. My mother had the chance to a mother, to be part of my life & choose not to do so. I simply respected her decision.
To be honest, she was never the one that raised me, that role was mostly filled by my sister & sometimes my grandmother. My grandmother was difficult to say the least & hated my mother. My sister was barely seven years older than me. She did her best, but she was kid. She always thought out mother would change, would take responsibility, but that never happened. My sister's hope for her mother's change ended yesterday.
My sister & my grandparents taught me what most people's parents teach them. My mother treated me like she was cat. She taught me how to read people, how to play cards, shoot pool, bowl. Because of her & my father I learned to drive at the age of twelve. I had to get them out of bar brawls & get them home. Mind you the cops knew how old I was, but no one said anything as long as I was coming to take my parents away. From them I learned how to fight, argue & con, what positive role-models. They taught me how to survive as some type of creature living on the fringe, but not as a normal person.
My actions are mine, but the stage on which I play was built in large part due to these people. I'll never know what it could've been like to have parents who weren't drunks. Did my mother care about me? Most likely, in her own peculiar way. She may have even loved me at one point. But not enough. Not enough to be a good parent, to give up drinking or to give me a descent life.
Now for the questions. Will I miss her? No, she was already gone. Will I let go of any resentment I still hold towards her? I hope so. What do I most feel at this very moment? Relief. That may sound harsh, but I know that my mother & her wave of destruction & chaos can never touch any one ever again. The hurricane that was my mother has died, let their be peace & clear minds.
As one last act of respect I'll post some music videos for her:
This is one she requested for her memorial...
This one was driving music:
More driving music
How I saw her...
Cya
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