My Mother Died

 

November 30, 2006

My Mother Died.

I was changing planes, and she died. I didn’t make it. She Died.

 My Mother Died. I tried to get there on time. I changed my flight. I was told there was time.

I tried. She Died.

My Mother Died, I was not there.  I was not there to say good bye. I was not there to tell her, to tell her, all that there was to say.

She Died.

 My Mother Died. I was not there to tell her, that she was a good mother. I’m not sure I really feel that, but I’m sure I should have told her that, and I didn’t.

She Died.

 My mother died. I loved my mother. Did she know?

She Died.

 My Mother Died.  I should have been there. Why didn’t she wait for me? She knew I was coming. She didn’t wait! I tried.

She Died.

 My Mother Died. In Cape Cod. Without me.  She always said the sun went “Bloop” as it slipped down from the horizon. She loved the bloop. She didn’t wait for me. She left me.

My mother died and my husband’s in London, not answering his damned phone. I begged him not to go. He left anyway.

She didn’t wait, she didn’t wait for me, she left me.

 I called my mother. “Hi Mommy”

“Hello sweet girl, where are you?”

 “I’m in Atlanta, changing planes.” I cried. “I didn’t make it. Mom died.”

 

The Problem Was, I Was Born…

I was born as a problem. A shameful situation that had to be dealt with. I was an embarrassment to my family, one that was hidden away, even before I saw my first glimpse of the world. I had committed the unthinkable crime of being conceived. And, my mother wasn’t married. She wanted desperately to keep me, but society had rules that she couldn’t conquer, and they were firmly upheld by her parents. It simply wasn’t done. She tried, for five months, while I waited in a foster home. But in the end, society won.

My mother was told, over and over, that she would move on, have other children, that she would forget about me. She never did. Every year on my birthday she wrote to the adoption agency to be sure they had her current contact information. She wanted to be found. And I did find her, nineteen years later. Thirty-three years ago, we reunited, and have been in each other’s lives and families ever since.