My mother had a hard time raising children as a single mother. My father died when I was only six year of age. I really don't remember anything about him. I loved my mother so much and I was willing to do anything for her. My mother's health was never good. In fact as the years went by it just kept getting worse. When i was nine I slowly started taking care of my family. While being an honor student. All I ever want was to her the words "I'm proud of you" come out of her mouth, but they didn't. She always told me that she loved me. She told all of us that. But the way she acted toward me felt that she wanted me to be perfect.
There were so many nights I cried, feeling as though my mother didn't care. When I was twelve I, along with my two younger siblings were taken from my mother and put into foster care for two years. Although her health declined even further, she fought for us. After two and a half years she finally got us back. I was almost fifteen and again took the role of taking care of my family. I mean what else was I suppose to do. I loved my family. It still felt like my mother expected me to be perfect. But for the most part I ignore the feelings. I just let them build up more and more. Still an honor student and taking care of them. I began feeling guilty for going to school, but also taking refuge in it.
Because it was the short time in a day when I didn't here my mom screaming at me telling me I was lazy, because I was doing my homework instead of scrubbing the floor. If I didn't start dinner when I first got home and have it done by five my mom yelled at me. Yet there'd be days she told me she loved me. I felt worthless, like my life didn't matter. All wanted was to hear her say she was proud of me. But still, nothing of the sort came out of her mouth. when I was sixteen we moved to California.
I thought it'd be a new start and I could finally get away from some of the horrible things that happened in my past. Little did I know that you can't run from your past. I took care of my family still without question and I wouldn't change that now. I even got involved in a church. Was an honor roll student. Yet I felt unloved and worthless. I felt guilty every time I left the apartment afraid that when I came home my mother would be dead and it would be my fault for leaving her alone. She always said she loved me, but it didn't do much for me. Within several months we were kick out of the apartment and had not found a new place in time. So we were homeless. And still I went to school acting like nothing was wrong, was an honor student and took care of my family.
I stopped going to church. All I wanted was for my mom to say she was proud of me. But instead all I got was her saying "Casey, baby if it weren't for you I'd already be dead." I was heartbroken. A few months later we were taken from her. This time, she didn't fight. In fact within a week she signed her rights away. Eight weeks later I entered into an independent living program. At this time sixteen and a half (which was min. age requirement for the program) and talking to my mom on the phone every night. Still even though taking care of myself and making it on my own she still didn't tell me something I desperately needed to hear at this point. A few weeks before my junior year in high school I moved into my house (still in the program) the day I was moving in and unpacking I was talking to my mom. I had been lately over working myself and we hadn't been talking much because I was so busy. I was half paying attention when she said "Baby, I'm so proud of you."
I dropped the box of clothes I had in my hand and said "Hey mom. I'm sorry, what did you say?" "I'm proud of you." she said. Tears starting rolling down my face. She didn't realize it. All I could think of saying was thank you. October 22nd, 2007 my mom and I were talking on the phone and the subject came up of her saying she was proud of me. I told her how much it really meant to me. She then realized that she'd never said it to my younger siblings either. So her plans were to say it next time she spoke to them. She didn't get that chance. November 2nd, 2007 my mother passed away. So the very next night when I had to tell my siblings the first thing I said was "Mom wanted to know she was very proud of you and I am too." That was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I'm thankful for the fact that I got to her my mom say she was proud of me. I don't have any questions on whether she loved me or not because of that one short moment in time. And I know that everything happens for a reason. And I'm at peace. My mother only passed away three wand a half months ago and I know things are going to be okay, because I know my mother did love me.
