The words sounded hollow, stripped of meaning and sincerity. The usual compassion and joy commonly associated with those words were absent as they left my lips. Usually, when someone says those words to a family member they have not seen in months, they feel relief and a sense of longing. But for me, saying those words left me feeling awkward and hurt. It was not what I had expected it to be like. She said “I love you too”, and hung up.
For six whole years I had struggled to come to terms with my mom’s betrayal, her departure. She had left home when my younger brother Kenny was barely 3 years old, leaving my dad to take care of me, Kenny and my then 14year old brother Nick. Even worse, she had left not only taking away my dad’s heart, but also his pride; she had left to start a new life with a man she had met while dad was working in the US. The months after she had left had been very hard on my dad. I remember my aunt and uncle playing a very vital role in taking care of all us during those times.
Consequently, my dad disapproved of her meeting up with my brothers and me. Yet for the first two years, she had made regular visits to see us. But after that, the only contact we had with her was when she brought us birthday or Christmas gifts, and when she called up to talk to us. Nick and I would make conversations with her very brief, while my younger brother would be more optimistic. Always she would ask me about my health, my school; the sorts of things mothers ask their daughters. I tried always to talk to her as if nothing had happened, almost make-believing that she had never left us, but simply worked far away. However, I always ended up giving her one word answers and awkward pauses.
Recent experiences had led me to believe that there was a way to completely forgive her; all it required from me was an open mind and will to forgive. I tried my best to ignore the scars I felt etched in my memory and replace them with the good things she’d done and all the sacrifices she had made for us. But always the negatives seemed to weigh more than the positives. When I think back, she was very little of a mother to me or my brothers. While my dad was still overseas, the three of us had been left at home to take care amongst ourselves while she rendezvoused with her ‘buddy’. Nicky and I would have to take turns skipping school to take care of Kenny during those periods when she wouldn’t be home for days.
I thought that returning her ‘I love you’ today would prove to me that I do in fact still love my mother, no matter what my common sense screamed at me. But all it had done was make this world seem like an even darker place. I know that she does love me and my siblings and for that I am grateful. I wish there was a way for me to return that feeling. If there’s one lesson that I’ve learned from this phone call it is that there’s more to saying “I love you” than just wanting to mean it.
For six whole years I had struggled to come to terms with my mom’s betrayal, her departure. She had left home when my younger brother Kenny was barely 3 years old, leaving my dad to take care of me, Kenny and my then 14year old brother Nick. Even worse, she had left not only taking away my dad’s heart, but also his pride; she had left to start a new life with a man she had met while dad was working in the US. The months after she had left had been very hard on my dad. I remember my aunt and uncle playing a very vital role in taking care of all us during those times.
Consequently, my dad disapproved of her meeting up with my brothers and me. Yet for the first two years, she had made regular visits to see us. But after that, the only contact we had with her was when she brought us birthday or Christmas gifts, and when she called up to talk to us. Nick and I would make conversations with her very brief, while my younger brother would be more optimistic. Always she would ask me about my health, my school; the sorts of things mothers ask their daughters. I tried always to talk to her as if nothing had happened, almost make-believing that she had never left us, but simply worked far away. However, I always ended up giving her one word answers and awkward pauses.
Recent experiences had led me to believe that there was a way to completely forgive her; all it required from me was an open mind and will to forgive. I tried my best to ignore the scars I felt etched in my memory and replace them with the good things she’d done and all the sacrifices she had made for us. But always the negatives seemed to weigh more than the positives. When I think back, she was very little of a mother to me or my brothers. While my dad was still overseas, the three of us had been left at home to take care amongst ourselves while she rendezvoused with her ‘buddy’. Nicky and I would have to take turns skipping school to take care of Kenny during those periods when she wouldn’t be home for days.
I thought that returning her ‘I love you’ today would prove to me that I do in fact still love my mother, no matter what my common sense screamed at me. But all it had done was make this world seem like an even darker place. I know that she does love me and my siblings and for that I am grateful. I wish there was a way for me to return that feeling. If there’s one lesson that I’ve learned from this phone call it is that there’s more to saying “I love you” than just wanting to mean it.
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