And so now, we come to my mother and to the heart of the reason I’ve been writing all this.
If you read my previous post (Backstory Part 1), you know that my mother left my father and I when I was around 3 years old or so. She married another man and move to a nearby town. For a couple of years, I saw her on most Sundays and maybe a little in between, I really can’t remember much. I don’t remember my stepfather’s name or much about their apartment. I do remember playing in the backyard, a cat she had, and two bunnies, but that is about it. Their marriage didn’t last long, maybe 2 years. After that, I’m not sure how long but not too long, she moved to Texas (I think around Waco, if I’m not mistaken). I vaguely remember that she came to visit a couple of times, called every once in awhile and eventually wrote letters too.
I do not know why she moved to Texas, I’ve never bothered to ask her. Our relationship deteriorated too the point that after my father died, when she came back to get me, I didn’t want to go. It’s been rumored that she came back to kidnap me, but I don’t know that I believe that. All I remember is her asking me where I wanted to stay and I said with my grandparents. By then, I was old enough to recognize that they loved me more than she did.
When I was 13, she moved back to NC with her 3rd husband E_. My new stepfather, to a young, small 13 year old girl, seemed huge and scary. He was probably over 6 foot tall, big arms and torso, tattoos, big handlebar mustache…he just scared me. But we tried. I went to see her that Christmas, she took me out to eat occasionally…but I guess it was too hard for us. I had become used to not seeing her or talking to her and…well, I don’t know what was up with her at the time. The last time I talked to her before they moved back to Texas was the next Christmas. She wanted me to go see them to get my presents, etc, and I, by then practically terrified of E_ asked that she come to my house. She said that she would, but she never came. 6 months later my grandmother and I saw her best friend in a store and she told us she had moved. She seemed surprised we didn’t know.
I wasn’t. By this time I had become accustomed to my mother’s eratic ways. And I just didn’t care any more.
I think she loved me in her own way. Yet I think she was too young and immature to raise a child. She has since told me that she left me with my grandparents because she knew they could give me a better life; send me to college, give me the things I wanted/needed, etc. To which I told her that material things were little replacement for a mothers love but in my mind I think it all turned out for the best. Or so I thought.
She came back one more time, when I was 22, to my wedding. Then, for the last time, when I was 25 and pregnant with Ellie, she came back single and alone. And that is where my story leads into the now.