I am sorry mother
My mother, Sena was a great lady; full of life, cheerful, and always happy. She had Grace Kelly glamour, and the heart of Mother Teresa. At the time I thought “Oh I am one happy child”. Moreover, she was a great wife, always welcomed my dad’s friends with a smile on her face, no matter how tired she was or how late they would come, she would always make sure there is food on the table for everyone. We all relied on her for advice or an idea. Her kind eyes were always smiling and her hands were always warm, but shaking. Shaking from drinking; I was a child of an alcoholic.
Growing up I remember my dad telling us, my brother and I, how beautiful and kind mom was. Even to this day I believe their love story, how they fell in love and got married was so unique and beautiful. When I asked my dad what was so special about mom he answered “Her kind heart”. The first ten years of my life were one of the happiest years I can remember. My mom Sena was cheerful, full of life, creative and a smart woman. She had so many qualities it would be hard to list them all. As a little girl growing up she always dressed me so nicely, no matter where we were going, and brushed my hair several times per day. At the time I just could not understand why it was so important to be dressed so nicely, but that was one of her ways of showing us how much she cared. Since my dad traveled consistently the first years of my life, mom was the person to rely for everything. She was the one going to parent teacher meetings, and getting us ready for school. Summer and winters vacations were the most beautiful memories because we were all together. She devoted herself to her family, maybe because she lost her parents when she was very young, and wanted to make up for lost times. I wonder now if all that devotion was over whelming for her, and was she really happy.
It seemed sudden to me at the time, how much mom changed. She was late to pick us up from school, sometimes she would not even show up. I learned to cook at an early age, because it seemed like we never had any cooked meals at home any more. My dad got promoted and did not have to travel as much, I was happy about that. Months passed by and every day and night became the same; Mother was in her bedroom, there was no food in the house, piles of laundry, dishes all over the house. She would come downstairs to kiss me everyday and apologized for the mess, sometimes she would take a shower and dress up just for me, but I knew she had been drinking. I never saw any bottles because she was so good at hiding them, but I also knew my dad would dispose of them. Sometimes at night she would talk so loud at my dad, my brother and I would move downstairs so we would not have to listen. Over the years she stayed sober for a day or two during the week, and then everything was wonderful as it was before her drinking problem. She would cook special meals, and we would chat at the dinner table, everything seemed normal and no one would ever guess the problems we were going through. One day I came back from school and found her lying down on the stairs. I stood for few minutes not sure what to do. I think I was heartbroken. That was the first time I saw my mom helpless, and I was scared. I knew she was drinking but at the same time she was good at hiding things and pretending how nice and good everything is. Sometimes I was happy she did that, but other times I wanted her to face the problem and stop pretending. As in the past few months, my dad came home, took her to a hospital and took care of everything. This incident was one of many to come.
Over the years something inside of me changed; I did not feel sad for her anymore, but rather angry at her. I got sick of her apologies, the smell of wine in the house, fake smiles. Furthermore, I became angry at my dad for finding all kinds of excuses for her. I wanted him to do more, to fix the problem and above all to tell us the truth, that mom is an alcoholic. Little did I know back than, a few times per week, my dad would leave work early to take her to therapy. He took care of her, and at the same time he took care of us. I tried to spend as little time as possible at home I became involved in different activities. As I was wondering from my home I was becoming more involved with myself and art; painting became my escape. When I did come home I would excuse myself and go to my room, because I knew if I stayed I would say something mean to my dad or to her if she was not in her bedroom. On several occasions my dad wanted me to spend more time with her, to be there for her, but I would wonder if she knew I was there, and what difference could I possible make. It was obvious to me; nothing is the same and never will be.
Over the years our relationship became different; we fell apart. It was hard to watch a woman who was once kind, sweet and strong lose her sense of humor and all the great qualities because of alcohol. Maybe she was too strong for her family and friends that she needed to escape. Back than I believed I reached out to her, now I know I should have tried harder. I have so much to thank her for; she made sure my brother and I grew up with values, to accept people for who they are, to be always honest and respectful to others, to love and never give up on family and many other values I get to keep with in me for the rest of my life, all thanks to her being a great mom. However, alcohol is an addiction that took her away from us. She loved her family but she loved wine too. It was her way to escape from whatever she was trying to escape from, because deep in my heart I believe she loved her family and we loved her back. To this day when I look at our family album and remember all the wonderful times together I want to tell her how sorry I am for not being there for her more, because I love her for being a wonderful, caring and kind woman that she was.