Chronicle of my life, times, this n that

The most complex relationship for me has been that of a Mother. For me that name feels like a big, gaping hole in my heart. Sometimes I can see that hole and it appears like an endless abyss, dark and unknown. Like the black hole in the galaxy, no matter how much I force myself to see it, it just gets more and more infinite. Sometimes in my sleep I can see that hole and that part of me aches badly now. I had my mom for the nine months she kept me and for the day I was born. I was brought up by my family very lovingly. I never really missed or craved for my mother until, well almost until I got married. When I missed her, it would be the same as someone who didn’t have a brother or sister would miss having one. I never cried for her. I do not know how this came about, but my family never talked about her. We never had any of her pictures hung around the house. I do not know my parents anniversary till date and I didn’t know how she looked almost until I was 16 or something. I heard many stories about the kind of child I was, I could dress up on my own for school and just wait for someone to button up my shirt and tie my laces. How no one ever bothered to see if my homework was done, since I always on top of it. How I could cook a decent meal while I was just about 12 years old. Basically just how good I was . And I have fond memories of my childhood. I have memories of lots of uninterrupted play, of my birthday celebrations, of being loved, pampered, going for holidays, meeting cousins, like just any other child. A normal childhood. I never remember my family pity me or say to me or to anyone – oh poor child! She doesn’t have a mother. Or hear them say, she missed this and she isn’t this since she never had her mum. I often had my mum’s cousins tell me, how I looked like her and how I had her taste in music and hair like her. And I also heard from others how my father refused several second marriage proposals because he thought he couldn’t trust anyone to bring me up. I never felt that someone was missing from my family or there was something I missed in my relationship with them. I do not know whether it was a good thing they did when they never talked about her. When I was small I think it worked, at that time it was good, since it never made me miss her. But now I feel, had they brought up the topic and made me realize what I was missing, I would have been less sensitive to such talk. Now when I miss her, I cry endlessly, as if I just lost her yesterday!

I do not have a mother. I never had one. This is a fact of my life. And it has never come to haunt me as much as it does now. Does it make me over sensitive? I do not know. Does it make me unaware of a mother’s feelings? I do not know. I have known aunts and my friend’s mothers, my sister is a mother too. My thinking is different since thoughts like ‘what would my mom have done in this situation’ do not cross my mind. I am my own kind of mom and I am growing and evolving. I am learning as I go along. And I want to be ‘my’ kind of mum.

This post didn’t make much sense. ok.