A Mother By Any Other Name…

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Abstract

e when those who went through the terror you suffered dare not speak its name, a time when everyone looked the other way, a time when it was next to impossible to get away. And yet you did get away, toddler in tow, running with her into the night from a knife attack, the straw that broke your back. After suffering that history of violence and financial dependency, you created a new life for the two of you, a life that is more than likely the reason I’m able to sit here and write this today. You survived with all odds stacked against you, you packed up your baggage and stashed it away, hidden from the rest of us, because that was what you had to do to move forward. You never talked about it to anyone, least of all me, because you didn’t want to burden us with the knowledge of how you really felt about what happened.</p><p id="d22b">Maybe you didn’t want to upset me by putting the images of your abuse in my head. Maybe you were ashamed. But know that learning about this part of your life and the things you endured only made me love you even more, only added feet to the pedestal in my heart you reside on top of, only made you more of a hero in my eyes.</p><p id="af6e">I also learned after you were gone that I had given you a gift I never could have imagined. After years of sadness and suffering, it turned out that I was a little ray of sunshine in your life, a vessel of hope that you needed after all the hope in your heart had been stolen from you with angry words and clenched fists. Little did I know that as much as you had done for me, I had done something important for you — just because of the mere fact that I existed.</p><p id="a1bf" type="7">Know that learning about this part of your life and the things you endured only added feet to the pedestal in my heart you reside on top of….</p><p id="d655">I always assumed that I was a burden on you, a responsibility you felt obligated to fulfill in my parents’ absence, but it turns out I was a gift you opened every day with love and pride. And knowing that means more to me than I could ever begin to put into words.</p><p

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id="7bdd">But I can say this: I honor you on Mother’s Day, my wonderful grandmother, my heart, because although you did not give birth to me, you gave me my life.</p><p id="652d"><b><i>More from Kiki Wellington:</i></b></p><div id="62ac" class="link-block"> <a href="https://psiloveyou.xyz/my-disenfranchised-grief-ce9910bf06c3"> <div> <div> <h2>My Disenfranchised Grief</h2> <div><h3>How do you mourn when your loss feels so insignificant by comparison?</h3></div> <div><p>psiloveyou.xyz</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*2QLlWTGcIabReykRNbKOIQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="6548" class="link-block"> <a href="https://psiloveyou.xyz/5-love-lessons-from-its-the-great-pumpkin-charlie-brown-7a1745a6be7f"> <div> <div> <h2>5 Love Lessons From ‘It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown’</h2> <div><h3>What we can still learn from the classic cartoon</h3></div> <div><p>psiloveyou.xyz</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*KZ4bC-Ha62Am9piNPfIqCQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="5aa1" class="link-block"> <a href="https://psiloveyou.xyz/the-ways-cats-love-you-back-c0d3a1c3e884"> <div> <div> <h2>5 Acts of Feline Love to Be Thankful For</h2> <div><h3>You just have to catch cats in the right mood to experience them</h3></div> <div><p>psiloveyou.xyz</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*VDpOKYhFyJtsasRD)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Is a grandmother

You didn’t have to do the things you did for me, but you did them anyway. You didn’t have to step in to fill the void of absentee parents, but you picked up that gauntlet and ran with it every single day with a stamina rivaling any professional marathoner. With smiles and laughter and love and hugs, you bandaged every scraped knee, cooked every homemade French fry for lunch, made every trip to the park so I could swing until my little legs could stand no more.

You read every story until I knew all of the words by heart. You instilled a love of learning and words in me that shaped the trajectory of my life and propelled me into my writing career. You listened to the radio with me, singing songs and always getting the words wrong. You bought every piece of Halloween candy I wanted every year, and as other kids were out trying to get sweets from strangers, you gave me the treat of your time as we played board games, watched Charlie Brown, and created one of my fondest childhood memories.

It wasn’t until after you passed away that I found out who you really were….

I see you in my personality every day — from your dry humor to your tendency to talk to yourself to your ability to make up silly songs that amused you to no end. And there are traits of yours I hope to develop, like your ability to avoid using swear words or saying an unkind word about anyone.

For me, for years, that was who you were, and I was content with that.

It wasn’t until after you passed away that I found out who you really were: An abuse survivor during a time when those who went through the terror you suffered dare not speak its name, a time when everyone looked the other way, a time when it was next to impossible to get away. And yet you did get away, toddler in tow, running with her into the night from a knife attack, the straw that broke your back. After suffering that history of violence and financial dependency, you created a new life for the two of you, a life that is more than likely the reason I’m able to sit here and write this today. You survived with all odds stacked against you, you packed up your baggage and stashed it away, hidden from the rest of us, because that was what you had to do to move forward. You never talked about it to anyone, least of all me, because you didn’t want to burden us with the knowledge of how you really felt about what happened.

Maybe you didn’t want to upset me by putting the images of your abuse in my head. Maybe you were ashamed. But know that learning about this part of your life and the things you endured only made me love you even more, only added feet to the pedestal in my heart you reside on top of, only made you more of a hero in my eyes.

I also learned after you were gone that I had given you a gift I never could have imagined. After years of sadness and suffering, it turned out that I was a little ray of sunshine in your life, a vessel of hope that you needed after all the hope in your heart had been stolen from you with angry words and clenched fists. Little did I know that as much as you had done for me, I had done something important for you — just because of the mere fact that I existed.

Know that learning about this part of your life and the things you endured only added feet to the pedestal in my heart you reside on top of….

I always assumed that I was a burden on you, a responsibility you felt obligated to fulfill in my parents’ absence, but it turns out I was a gift you opened every day with love and pride. And knowing that means more to me than I could ever begin to put into words.

But I can say this: I honor you on Mother’s Day, my wonderful grandmother, my heart, because although you did not give birth to me, you gave me my life.

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