2011 in photos day 29

I was never that close to my mother. My mom was an alcoholic and my parents divorced when I was five. In the beginning she appeared to be perfect in everyone's eyes. She made beautiful food, dressed my brother and I perfectly and was the envy of other housewives. That all changed in less than two months. My father did everything and couldn't save her. He told us she was "sick"... I guess I went through stages where I believed that. Some moments I was angry and some, I really could have cared less. My mema was my mother and I never longed for anything. I always described my relationship with my mother as non-existent. I felt like it was over before it began. I never missed her when she wasn't around. I never questioned where she was. It was either a relationship that had not developed or that I had blocked out.

She died in October of 2010. Her body was found in her apartment. Appeared to be liver failure. She was alone and it had been days. I found out by an early call from my dad. I was in the middle of our "final" fertility cycle and was giving myself 4 shots a day. I was at peace with the news and thought maybe she wouldn't be "sick" in his kingdom. Maybe she would be out of the pain that drove her. I found out I was pregnant about 3 weeks later. It was weird. There was a day when I wondered if God took my mother and gave me a baby... Like it was some sort of trade off. I felt like she knew. Like she had made some sort of last ditch effort to offer me peace. Like a little girl who's mother forgot to pick her up at school and then suddenly whipped around the corner.

When we got ready for Christmas this year I thought about her. I thought about how there was nothing better than kids at Christmas and how someone would literally have to drag me away from my children if they wanted us to live separately and how I would die for them. I thought about how she called me once or twice when I was six and seven and how the phone calls stopped. I thought, " my dad was right, she must have really been sick". There was just no way I would live without my children. No drug, no drink that I would want more than their sweet breaths on my chest.

I hope she looked down on these babies during Christmas. I remember singing silent night holding Gianna and thinking it was the most sacred thing I had ever done in my life. I remember the candles at church flickering and her eyes were twinkling at the flames. I remember the waive of emotion that washed over me.

I remember missing my mother for the first time in my life.