Back in the day, I created a book entitled The Sinful Woman. It was at a time in my life when I was deeply hurting and wanted to be loved and accepted from people in general, I guess, but mostly the church. I dont know why that was so important to me. I'm glad I wrote the book. It has helped a lot of people who are hurting and searching. It has helped those who have been rejected by those who look down on those who sin. In reality, we all sin. None of us are perfect, but I think some think that they are above the rest.
One month ago, I was sitting in a hospital, next to my mom who was dying. A person who i really never called mom to her face, but yet she was my 'mom.' She raised me I guess you could say. Im not sure how I feel about her, but now that she is gone, I really do miss her.
I have a lot of regrets, but that is not going to do me any good. The biggest regret I have is that I stayed angry at her my whole life. I did not deal wiht the anger and I did not have the relationship with her that I could have. I really am sorry about that. In a lot of ways, she was a great person. She helped a lot of people, was a great friend, and really cared. You cannot find many people like that.
There were just so many hurts from my childhood that really stood in the way from me having a relationship with her. When it came down to it though, I was loyal. I stood by her side through it all and I didnt want to leave her. She lived with my family and I wanted her to, mostly. I was angry about it, but yet I wanted her to stay. I pushed her away, but I wanted her to stay at the same time.
I wanted her to have a peaceful passing and I did not want anything to stand in the way of that. There were things that came up and I really didnt want anything to interfere. I kept people away if I knew that she would be hurt. I didnt want the mistakes of her past to haunt her in her last days and I was going to do everything I could to make sure that every wish of hers was granted. It was important to me! It was important to me becuase I knew that it was important to her.
I wish that were the case in most lives. I wish that people really did put other people first. I wish that people really did care. I knew what I had to do. I had to completely set everything aside in order to be there with her. I had to not allow any problems in our relationship to enter in.
We have great friends whose daughter walked away from the relationship allowing her mom to pass away without peace.
The thing that I tried with everything in me was to make sure that she had peace when she passed. The problem was, the more I tried, the more it didnt happen.
That was the worst death I have ever witnessed in my life and I have seen a few.
This was unreal. The pain that she endured was unthinkable.
She had leukemia.
She was only diagnosed with it in August and she died on October 25.
Almost one month ago.
Funny.
Tomorrow is the anniversary of her death and my dads.
He died on November 25.
I was only 11 years old.
I have never been able to face that death. Not ever.
It has hurt too much.
I loved my dad more than anything on this earth.
He was my biggest cheerleader in life.
He loved me!
and in a blink of an eye, he was gone.
In my childlike ways, I had no idea how to handle it and nobody tried to help me.
Days after his death, we went to the funeral...
the same funeral home where my 'mom' was. I call her mary really. That is how I have always referred to her. I do not want to disrepect her in her death at all. She really was a great woman in many respects!
I never went back to that funeral home, really. Once. but i was in and out very fast. Didnt want to deal with being there.
This time I had to stay there. I had to be in the very place where he was.
The place looked a little different.
Things were moved around.
They had renovated.
But for the most part, it was the same.
The chair was still there.
Im sure that it was not the same chair, but it looked the same.
I sat there when I was 11 years old and just stared at my dad breathing in and out.
I thought he was.
I told everyone I could, but nobody would listen.
He's breathing.
Nobody had explained to me that there is a thing called embalming.
That would have been nice to know.
I really believed he was still alive.
I dreamed that he was still alive underground and that he was going to come and get me for a year.
I woke up frantic from night terrors for a good year.
But I had to take care of my 'mom.'
She was too messed up to take care of herself.
I had to.
She did work and take care of the finances, but for some reason she was unable to handle emotional, every day, life.
She slept with me in my room.
She was unable to go in her room at all.
She had me do that if she needed something.
She had friends take everything out of her house and in the mean time...I was this kid.
My aunt told me that I had to take care of her.
After all, he wasnt my real dad anyway.
Oh yeah, did I forget to mention...
I was adopted.
So, he wasnt my REAL dad.
Whatever that means.
Yes, he did not donate the sperm, but as far as I was concerned...
He was DAD!
I loved him so much!
I looked forward to him coming home every day...
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