my mother’s love was squandered
yesterday while playing every enya song on my itunes (admittedly, not all that many tracks as i unfortunately lost quite a bit of my music and keep failing to recover my enya files), i found myself ridden with thoughts and then with tears. to explain precisely why might take a novel, as there are many tiny reasons that trickle into the broad statement i’m about to make. the reason being, my mother never acted like a mom to me. how this connects to enya is fairly simple, my mother loves enya. another woman in my life who loves enya is the mother of my boyfriend, who has a daughter, age 18, and has a wonderful bond with her that i have, unfortunately, only ever dreamed of having with any woman 20-30 years my senior. it’s the heartbreaking truth of my childhood that no matter what my mother does now, those formative years of our relationship will never be made up for. she could sob and apologize profusely, in fact, she has, and i will never have a bond with her as my boyfriend’s mother with her daughter. the experience of a mother’s unconditional love and support, comforting words and actions, and generally just being there no matter what i will never regain or experience, and it pains me to see it with others. it’s a strange jealousy triggered by memories of laying in my bed at night and praying i had been adopted, dreaming about what it would be like to have a mother who truly cared, and waiting for my daddy to come and ‘save me’. a jealousy nurtured by the fact that forgiveness is possible, but forgetting is not; and while it’s wholly possible to become the person you wish you had always been, it is not possible to become the mother you wish you had always been, because there are years there that can never be taken back nor erased.