My Love:
Everyone interprets love differently. Moms are supposed to be a child’s first love.
Growing up, my mom was a role model because she was a single mother, raising four kids and
working her ass off. After my father had his stroke, on March 22, 2019, my mom was different.
She was prescribed antidepressant, Wellbutrin. I barely recognized her mannerisms as a result of
the drug. I knew medication was never the answer; anti-depressants fuck with a person.
Falling Out of Love:
June 13, 2019, my mom left. A woman that had been so influential had suddenly been
broken off. She moved out saying that she would come back to Michigan for my sister’s
graduation, but in reality, I already knew that if she were to come back I would never want to see
her again. She was planning on moving to New Mexico, finding a job and buying a house. Every
time she called to check up on me I was resentful to pick up the phone. I was happy for her, but I
continually held a grudge because no parent should abandon their kid. I would decline the calls
and my grandma would update me with unwanted information.
Three months later, we received a call from the University of New Mexico Hospital.
There were three possible conditions a parasite, a lesion, or brain cancer. I didn’t know what to
think, all my sympathy was gone. She had caused more pain over a span of three months than I
had ever felt in my life
Forgery of Love:
After three months in New Mexico, my mom was back in my life, the doctors had
diagnosed her with brain and lung cancer. Although I felt empathy, I think it was more
sympathy. Every time I said, “I love you” I left it with a “grain of salt.” Two months left with
her, that’s less time than her New Mexico adventures. I continuously had to remind myself of all
the good memories rather than the bad ones.
To Friends:
So you know how my dad had a stroke.
Oh, you didn’t know? I thought I told you.
Well, my mom is in a rehab center and has been diagnosed with brain and lung cancer.
Fun fact it’s the same rehab center that my dad was in six months ago.
How am I doing? Fine, I guess.
How have I acted so normal? I didn’t want anyone to know.
If people knew, they would see weakness.
I wanted distractions, not people trying to comfort me.
I’m doing fine, not great, not bad, just fine.
To Mom:
After I saw you for the first time in months I realized, I missed you. Yet I can’t lie to you
anymore, I need you to understand why I don’t love you. It may be selfishness or my incapacity
to love, I’m not sure. I find myself at fault for the way I feel. You were a great mother because
for fifteen years you shaped me into the person I am today. As I look into a new day, I remind
myself that this could be the last day I spend with you. But as with anything, this could be my
last day with anyone.
I Want You to Know:
I love you. I loved you. I will never stop loving you.
Everyone interprets love differently. Moms are supposed to be a child’s first love.
Growing up, my mom was a role model because she was a single mother, raising four kids and
working her ass off. After my father had his stroke, on March 22, 2019, my mom was different.
She was prescribed antidepressant, Wellbutrin. I barely recognized her mannerisms as a result of
the drug. I knew medication was never the answer; anti-depressants fuck with a person.
Falling Out of Love:
June 13, 2019, my mom left. A woman that had been so influential had suddenly been
broken off. She moved out saying that she would come back to Michigan for my sister’s
graduation, but in reality, I already knew that if she were to come back I would never want to see
her again. She was planning on moving to New Mexico, finding a job and buying a house. Every
time she called to check up on me I was resentful to pick up the phone. I was happy for her, but I
continually held a grudge because no parent should abandon their kid. I would decline the calls
and my grandma would update me with unwanted information.
Three months later, we received a call from the University of New Mexico Hospital.
There were three possible conditions a parasite, a lesion, or brain cancer. I didn’t know what to
think, all my sympathy was gone. She had caused more pain over a span of three months than I
had ever felt in my life
Forgery of Love:
After three months in New Mexico, my mom was back in my life, the doctors had
diagnosed her with brain and lung cancer. Although I felt empathy, I think it was more
sympathy. Every time I said, “I love you” I left it with a “grain of salt.” Two months left with
her, that’s less time than her New Mexico adventures. I continuously had to remind myself of all
the good memories rather than the bad ones.
To Friends:
So you know how my dad had a stroke.
Oh, you didn’t know? I thought I told you.
Well, my mom is in a rehab center and has been diagnosed with brain and lung cancer.
Fun fact it’s the same rehab center that my dad was in six months ago.
How am I doing? Fine, I guess.
How have I acted so normal? I didn’t want anyone to know.
If people knew, they would see weakness.
I wanted distractions, not people trying to comfort me.
I’m doing fine, not great, not bad, just fine.
To Mom:
After I saw you for the first time in months I realized, I missed you. Yet I can’t lie to you
anymore, I need you to understand why I don’t love you. It may be selfishness or my incapacity
to love, I’m not sure. I find myself at fault for the way I feel. You were a great mother because
for fifteen years you shaped me into the person I am today. As I look into a new day, I remind
myself that this could be the last day I spend with you. But as with anything, this could be my
last day with anyone.
I Want You to Know:
I love you. I loved you. I will never stop loving you.