My mother has been gone for a long time, but the pain from losing her is still with me. She drove me crazy sometimes and I would get mad at her for some of her old-fashioned and close-minded ways, but I still miss her as much as on the day of her death.
Despite that I wasn’t her flesh and blood, she, always, saw me as her daughter. The child she would do anything for, protect and love with all her heart.
Regardless of not being child and the fact that I’m an adult, I really miss the security that only a mother provides. She knew when something was bothering me without me even saying anything. And she knew when I was up to something even though my actions were stealthy.
It was my mother, who showed me how to be caring and to love. They say adopted kids have attachment and self-worth issues, but the way my parents raised us I think helped me overcome those attachment and self-worth glitches. When a child is raised in a loving environment by people, who only view the adopted child as their own, I grew up understanding who I was and who my mother was.
The woman in the picture in this blog is who my mother was, regardless, of who birthed me. Part of me is the woman in the picture and the other part of me is the man, who raised me, that’s who I am.
I was lucky to experience being apart of a family, because there’s a lot of kids out there that never had a family while growing up. My mother worked full-time, Monday thru Friday, and had dinner on the table so we ate dinner together every night at 6 o’clock. We had special dinners every Sunday. My mother took care of us when we were sick and always listened when we had problems.
Losing my mother has been the hardest thing I’ve dealt with, the loss of her reminds me how lucky I am to have had a mom.
Miss you, every day, and love you, mom.