When my mother, Colette, was only a toddler, her birth mother died. Being innocent and pure, my mom had no expectations as to her future without a mother. She did not have to worry about these expectations for long, as her father (my grandfather) met another woman of whom he married. My mom was thrilled to have another human being in her life to raise her; however, what she didn’t know is that her ‘new’ mother would hold a grudge against her and treat her like dirt on the ground for the rest of her life.
It’s not that her mother didn’t love her – it’s more of the idea that my mom held my grandfather’s heart in the palm of her hand, knowing that she was able to control his feelings due to their strong connection from birth and the the death of her mother. My ‘step’ grandmother, Betty, didn’t and still doesn’t know how to love my mother without some sort of barrier, which withholds any sort of emotion. What kills me the most is the fact that Betty loves me with no regard and again holds a grudge against not only my mother, but my father and brother as well. My father of course is the lover of my mother (having an intimate association with her) and my brother holds my grandfather’s name, George. I haven’t told many people this, but I hate the fact that she loves me unconditionally – she loves me but cannot hold the same emotion with her own daughter.
The most astonishing detail of this whole situation is that my mother doesn’t hold a grudge against my brother or I, even though she did not have a loving mother pretty much her whole life. I think it is the family whom wrapped their arms around her that held her up, never allowing her to stumble and fall into the dark abyss of hell – a hell where children are nothing to their mothers. My mother should have had some sort of brick wall restricting her reach to George and I; but she has nothing of that sort.
The motherly love that I feel my mom wrap around me every time she kisses me and every time she hugs me is overwhelming. I know that she thinks I don’t want anything to do with her at times, but the truth is I don’t know what I would have done if she would have had the same brick wall Betty had when it came to being a true mother. The love of a mother is seemingly essential to an upbringing, which is valuable; however, a true beneficial upbringing comes from a family who loves you like a mother, knocking down every brick wall in their pathway to your heart.
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