So, it is no secret, that I have been contemplating my life for months, if not years. Picking it apart, bit by bit and dissecting it, hoping to figure it out and find some answers. Last week I went over relationships with the men in my life and tonight, I am going to dissect the women.
Now, there is two main women in my life, my mother and my grandmother, both played intrical parts in who I am today, the amazing, beautiful, and definately strong woman that I am.
As, I write this blog, I want you to know, it has become my testiment, the book I always wanted to write, but not being an auther, this will have to do. My mother did the best that she knew how, as her mother before her. Both were young and emotional, and maybe were not well equipped with the skills that they needed to raise the children that they had so young, but they tried, and for that I give credit, where credit is due.
My grandmother is my hero, she grew from nothing but dark secrets and shame. But she had more love in her heart than all the Valentines cards produced by Hallmark and a faith in God that could put any priest or pastor to shame. She was the strength of our family for several generations and what kept us as intact and from falling apart, most of the time.
In saying that, she dealt with her own emotional demons, she did her best but she was only human.
When my mother was a tween, I believe about twelve or thirteen, my grandfather got in a horrible car accident. When the parimedics found him, they described the scene as a man with his brain wrapped around a tree. My grandparents at the time, were probably classified as blue collar, hard workers, but they lived paycheck to paycheck. My grandfather, worked in a lumber factory, if I remember correctly and was the breadwinner of the family, my grandmother was busy raising their four children. After my Pap paps accident, my grandmother had to remember the love for her husband and the commitment that she made when she was sixteen, and dig down deep and not only uproot her children to be closer to family for support, but raise her four children, take on odd jobs to pay bills and if that wasnt enough, teach her husband how to walk, eat, brush his teeth and even wipe his ass. She did all of this because of her faith in God and her dedication to her family.
In saying this, her plate was full, bless her heart, she is my hero, but all of this is impossible for one person to fulfill. A couple years after my Pap Paps accident, a miracle according to my grandmother happened and she had another child. Now she had five children and my Pappy to take care of, She cleaned schools, became a nanny, was spread very thin, to say the least. She did her very best and I will never meet another person that could give as much as she did, I miss her every day and even named one of my daughters after her. (Another is named after my grandfather) But a person can only give so much and I dont think all of her five children got all of the attention that they might have needed.
I believe that my mother did her best in raising me. But she had her own emotions that she carried from her childhood and I dont think she ever properly digested it because she was pregnant with me at the age of seventeen. Who is mature at the age of seventeen, No One.
Now, I am not going to start naming her mistakes, just like I would hope my daughters will not name mine when they are in their womenly years and think they have all the answers. But I think there is something that needs to be said about figuring yourself out, atleast a little bit before you bring a little person into this world.
My mother was never able to grow up, she never had the chance to figure out who she was and what she liked, she became a mother in highschool and that was it.
For years, I have tried to not be like my mother. But daily I do something that reminds me of her.
I speant a lot of time looking at her mistakes and not until I became a woman did I realize who she was and why she is who she is. She is a product of her mother, just like I am a product of her.
Once I understood that, I gained a respect for her that I had never had before.
So many times we judge people and say that if we were in their shoes we would do it differantly, but we dont really know, and that doesnt really matter.
My mother, now that I am an adult has become one of my best friends. We deal with our pain and grief, farely regularly, in a healthy manner I believe. Sometimes, it is painful and sad, but I think we have an understanding for each other and there is no judgement, just love and understanding.
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