Unveiling the Pain

I remember my grandmother allowing my mother and father to take us to their house to stay the night once. We must have been 5 or 6 years old. I don’t really know what the dynamics of their living arrangements were. But, it appeared that they were occupying this space together. While there, I can remember things seemed ok initially, but I can remember vividly things escalating to the point of my father beating on my mother and calling her names. I can remember the look of defeat, hurt, and sadness on her face; the countenance she wore often. Most every memory I have of my mother was her at what seemed to be the weakest moments in her life. Nonetheless, I longed for her presence.

I can remember that any time I was told my mother was coming to visit us, my heart skipped a beat, but the visits were short lived as she always seemed preoccupied. I wanted a relationship with her. I needed her, loathed her, and loved her all in the same breath. She was the reason my life was so unstable and void in so many areas, but, she was also the one person who could have made it all better, if she only knew how. I don’t know what led her down the path she chose. What happened that made her choose everything else but her children? I just know I wished it was different.

There was a time when my mother resided at the local YMCA not far from my grandmother’s house. I can’t say for sure how I knew where she lived at that time, but, I knew. I remember sneaking to go to her room there with a couple of friends from the neighborhood because I wanted to see her so badly (I was about 7 years old). We got to her room and the door was slightly ajar: we all saw her clearly injecting something in to her veins. She was a heroin addict. My friends and I ran for what seemed like days to get away from there. I don’t know if she ever saw me that day, but that image was forever etched into my memory. I always wondered if sharing needles was how she contracted HIV.

My mother was troubled. From what I could tell, she was never able to make her crooked road straight. As she became increasingly sick during her transition from HIV to full blown AIDS, I witnessed her struggle to walk up 3 flights of stairs (in her weakest state) to the apartment where my brother and I lived with my foster mother. She said, with tears in her eyes, “Thank you for taking care of my kids, because I couldn’t.” That moment will live with me forever! I remember it like it was yesterday. She gave my foster mother a hug as best as she could and she expressed her gratitude for taking us in. It showed me that she did care, that she was remorseful for her absence, and most of all that she truly did love us! It’s not that she wouldn’t be there for us, she couldn’t. She didn’t know how.

I never got the chance to tell my mother just how much I loved her; that although I despised her for the things we experienced, she was still a major part of my heart. I struggled to forgive her, not only for what we endured, but also for what she did to herself that contributed to her absence. I wish I could tell her that she was a queen, an overcomer, a fighter; but more importantly, I wish she would have seen and known that for herself. My mother lost her battle to AIDS on February 7, 1991 (2 weeks after my twin brother). I never got to say goodbye. My heart was broken. Although many have tried, I never allowed anyone to take her place, because I have always just simply needed her.

Those of you out there who have the ability to see, touch, feel, disagree/laugh out loud with, and simply breathe the same air as your mother, CHERISH THAT!!! Please don’t take it for granted. I have craved my entire life for what you have at your fingertips. No matter the trials, it is a blessing. Forgive and let it go!!!

I forgive you Jacqueline “Jackie Mommy” Williams. I will continue to love you forever!

This day, I am moving on and allowing God to heal my heart as it pertains to my mother. It is released!

Psalm 139:13-14

13 For you formed my inward parts;

You covered me in my mother’s womb.

14 I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

Marvelous are Your works,

And that my soul knows very well.