when I was a little girl I had a mo. It was just her and me until I was eight. We were absolutely inseparable. I went to work with her until I was too old. Every picture is if her holding me. I was a very happy child. She was an adventurous soul and she instilled every ounce of it into me. She could make every event fun and I am just the same. I thought she was the most beautiful woman on the planet and I felt so uncomfortable in my own skin being so different than her. Yet I know that every piece of me is formed from being so close with her.
My mo was a walking dichotomy. The strongest and wisest and most caring person you’ve ever met and at the same time a terrified, lonely insecure spirit. I spent my youngest years and many of my adult moments trying to take care of her. Nothing made me feel more complete than making her laugh. I used to stare at her hands. They had the longest fingers and the prettiest nails. Perfectly shaped. She wore rings and as a child I would trace the puffy lines of her veins across the back of her hands. She always wore mascara but never lipstick. She had the longest prettiest legs and she always showed them off with short shorts or skirts. It made me feel so inadequate as I got older because I stopped growing in 7th grade and my legs are short and sort of permanently muscular. I wanted to be just like her and nothing like her at the exact same time. And I was.
It’s inexplicably hard to be so close to someone. You can read them like a book with your eyes closed. You can feel every feeling they have even across a phone line. But it makes you hypercritical of them. It makes you understand at a depth that no one can fathom. Once my stepdad told me that he knew her better than me. I’m sorry sir but that is impossible. I knew every story my mother had and could repeat them all at the drop of a hat right this instant. She talked to me like I was an adult my entire life. I was her mini me. Exactly like her but so very different.
I knew her so well that she started lying to me. It hurt. But I believe that maybe I was too hard on her. She couldn’t tell me the truth because my reaction was too harsh. Like a child.
I loved her. I still love her. I miss her. Just talking to her. And I know I need to be able to fill that void in myef with myself. I need to utilize my friends. I know what I’m supposed to do. I just get so sad. I want to be strong for my sisters and brother. But I’m terrible and I can’t get out of this funk.
I find myself reliving the bad events more than the good events and that makes me feel guilty. We fought. And I felt like her mom so I was so violently adamant on my position. I hated her for years. I took advantage of her. I felt paralyzingly tormented when she did certain things and I didn’t have a say over it. I loved my mo but I treated her badly. She loved me, and my sisters and brother, but life was a constant struggle for her to take care of us and take care of herself and I resented her. I never learned boundaries. But with all these feelings I would give absolutely everything I have to spend another day in the car with her. Going anywhere. Listening to music. Playing imaginary instruments. Singing. Telling her my problems and listening to her wisdom. I love my mo. I wish so many things could have been different. I wish I could go back in time and enjoy each and every moment now that I know how lonely it is without her. I wish I would have treated her better and I wish I could have accepted things the way they were. I wish she could have seen me fall in love, the kind that lasts forever. I wish she could have seen my babies if I’m ever going to have any. I wish we wouldn’t have fought about John and I getting together. He can’t love me as a partner, just as a friend. And I have to respect that and find my own life partner. And she saw the bond. I see the bond. But he doesn’t and that makes such a union impossible. So here I am. Sitting in the purgatory of a life half fulfilled. With no cheerleaders. Just the support of friends who I’m fortunate to have chosen so wisely. But I wish more than anything I could just make her smile one more time. Making her laugh was my best and biggest success in life. And disappointing her by not being able to make John fall in love with me when we are so obviously equal and opposites. I know she just wanted at least one of her kids to be settled and I couldn’t provide that sense of comfort for her. But I have to know that I’m doing a pretty fantastic job of taking care of myself and that has to be good enough for both of us.
Mo, if you are somewhere still guarding me with your spirit, I hope you can feel all these things going on inside of me and I hope you know I’m sorry and I love you and I miss you so much. I wasn’t ready to lose you and I didn’t make all the amends I needed to. I didn’t show you what I was capable of and I wasn’t prepared to do this on my own. I love you. I hope I can make you proud still. I hope I didn’t miss my chance.