I’m that Mother
…an excerpt from ‘I am this Woman.’
The next time I heard from Zazzie, I was heading to Dubai. I was a deflated Mother, who in one fail swoop of a Judges gavel had lost the right to see my children for another six months. It broke me; it made me look at my eleventh-floor balcony as hope might be found on the bottom floor.
She texted me, Dec.27th 2011 as I was boarding the plane, two words…’Be Safe.’
The next time I was to hear from my daughter was the 25th of August 2012. An email explaining that her Father had died and that I was not to come back and help. I wasn’t needed.
I wasn’t needed.
A funeral, a court case, a win…still to this day I am not sure what that win was.
The next time I was to see my daughter was three years later, by accident.
It was a strange day, as we had only been back in Australia for three days. We told no one; it was a surprise to me for my 47th birthday by my husband to bring me back to Australia in the hopes of a reunion with all of our children. We had surprised one of the boys and were in the process of doing the same to the other when her car pulled up.
One of two things could have happened; she could have turned away and walked inside, or she could have walked towards me and said hello.
Choices, we are all given so many important choices based on seconds thought that will last a lifetime in memory. She chose to walk to me, give me a brief, yet warm hug and tell me in a few short words how she was now a Dental Hygienist. I was in such absolute joy and disbelief; I think I repeated myself with the overuse of,’ I am so proud of you’, well done, your beautiful.
My husband was in the other car and quickly reversed to catch the moment on camera, he was in just as much shock. It was a weird interruption that needed to be done as he wanted it to be a kodak memory. She obliged and said she would have a picture with me.
In summary that is all I have, I am that Mother to her. Not in her life, not needed and all those little choices that we took along the way for each of us has led us here.
I am that Mother, who has had to make a stand not to feel that tug anymore.
I am that Mother, who has to protect myself from her absence in my life.
I am that Daughter, who did this to my parents 25 years prior.
I am that Wife, who left her father in hopes of salvaging her childhood.
I am that Rebel who refused to accept anything less in my life than love in it’s purest integrity.
I am that lost without her, that my bones will always ache.
I am that spiritual that I know this is part of both of our journeys and that nothing is final.
I am that victim that has mourned our time lost together and has had to look at herself every day in the mirror and find some bout of courage to say…I am this woman; these are my wounds.
It happened. My worst nightmare. Even as I write this, it’s hard to believe. I’ve lost them, all of them. Do I blame myself, damn straight I do. Have the choices I have made brought me to this? Yes. For they were the hard choices I had to make. The same rules applied to my choice to have children, did I make the right choices then?
Yes, and this will always be the answer.