My Mom used to always say: “You only get one Mother, and when she’s gone, you’re gonna miss her.” (Those words ring true for me now, even more so around the holidays.)
My Mom knew what she was talking about. She lost her Mother when she was just five years old. She was raised by her paternal grandmother, after her father “dumped” (her words), her and her infant sister off with his mom. He went on to meet someone else, remarry, and have another family. (I was told he didn’t mention his daughters to his new wife until after they were married.) My Mom still loved him, nonetheless.
My Mom passed away in 2015. There are so many days when I wish I could talk to her. I have so many things I want to ask her. There were things she wanted to share with me, but never did. My Mom experienced trauma as a child. “One of these days, I’m gonna sit you down and tell you everything.” That’s what she’d say to me whenever we discussed her childhood, tears in her eyes. “Ahh, there’s so much you don’t know. One of these days we’ll sit down and talk.” That day never arrived.
I know some of the story. She’d told me how poor they were when she was growing up. How she only had two school dresses. She’d wash one every day after school, so it’d be ready for her to wear. She only had one pair of shoes, and would put cardboard in then when they got a hole on the bottom.
There were things she wanted to tell me, but I guess it was just too painful to talk about. She didn’t want to confront it, it brought up too many sad feelings. I know she had two baby sisters that died of malnutrition as infants. She witnessed domestic violence as a child. She saw things, unimaginable things, that no child should ever see.
My heart breaks for that little girl. The child who would eventually grow up and become my Mom. I wish she would’ve been able to talk to me about all the horrific things she endured. Maybe it would’ve brought her a bit of peace, and some closure.
I also wish she would’ve shared more with me about her ancestry. I’m not sure how much she actually knew, but I would’ve loved to explore it with her. Maybe we could’ve discovered more together.
I’ve done a bit of research on my own. I know many of my ancestors came from Nuevo León & Zacatecas Mexico, and the surrounding areas. I know there is Native American blood in my veins. I don’t know what tribes though.
I remember her telling me my Great-Grandmother owned a lot of land in Mexico, but her abusive husband sold it without her knowledge.
The loss of my Mom really hits me hard this time of year. She loved the holidays. The lights, buying presents for her loved ones, the food. I’m a lot like her when it comes to those things.
I remember seeing some Christmas decorations for sale last year. My first thought was, “Oh Mom would love those!” Like for a split second, I forgot she was gone. Then reality brought me back and my eyes filled with tears right there in the store.
I hold on to everything she ever gave me, like it’s gold. I have this pair of red pajama bottoms. She gave them to me one Christmas. I’m certain she bought them at her favorite department store, Dillard’s. They have Christmas trees on them, and a big hole on the booty. I can’t wear them with that hole, but I refuse to get rid of them. I know I will never receive another gift from my Mom, for as long as I live. So I can’t bring myself to throw them away.
My Mom wasn’t perfect. She had many flaws. I don’t agree with everything she did, or every aspect of how she chose to raise me. She was extremely strict. But I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she loved me. I know she did what she thought was best for me, always.
My Mom instilled in me a deep love of my Mexican culture. She was a proud Latina woman. She loved her family with all her heart. She taught me to respect my elders.
Above all, she was my Mother. Anything she did or said to me growing up, that I didn’t agree with, has been forgiven. Being a parent is a tough job. She raised one heck of a Chingona, (me!), and I’d like to think she’s proud of me.
Being motherless for the holidays sucks, I ain’t gonna lie. Cherish your Mom because you only get one, and when she’s gone, you’re gonna miss her.
I love you bunches and bunches, Mom.
