My mother and I, we had a strange relationship. It was a sort of love and hate during my teenage years, and later on, it evolved progressively into a forgive, and move on state...Forgetting was hard and because of it, I made a goal of not becoming like my mother.
Destiny had a different idea for me, thus any important key turn in my life came with a twist. When I looked back to my youth years, I realized that more I strived to be different than my mother, more my reactions and decisions were similar to hers. It was like I was fighting myself.
My mother used to be a teacher. A good one I would say. The only downturn to it saw that at home she was more of a teacher than a mom. She always demanded more, pushed me more. Few or close to none are the memories I have with her caressing me or cuddling me. All that I can remember from my childhood was that there was always someone better than me. Or that I wasn't able to do anything properly, and a bleak prediction of my future.
During my teenage years and until I move out after my high school graduation, we were always fighting. I was fighting for my rights and my freedom, while she was trying to mold me into a perfect daughter. I can't say she was a bad mother; it’s just that her approach was too rigid for a rebel child like me. There were times I wished I had a mother with similar qualities of those of my friend’s mom. There were times when I wished I was adopted and my biological parents would come back, looking for me.
When I look at my wedding photo, she is the only person who wasn't smiling. I knew she wasn't quite happy with my choice, and I liked that. It was a silly defying game. Back then, my hubby was a no one. A university drop out without many career options. Probably she was worried for my future and my happiness. She couldn’t have known that one day he would be one of the biggest asphalt contractors Edmonton.
After I became a mother myself, something inside me changed. I started to understand some of her decisions, which didn't seem so drastically or irrational anymore. It took me over thirty years to understand she was only trying to protect me. I felt ashamed of myself for being such a pain in the ass and causing her so much pain. Luckily, she was still alive and I was able to tell her how much she meant for me, and how sorry I was for putting her through all sorts of trouble or worse, not allowing her to be always present in my life.