On April 17th at 4:45 in the morning my phone rang , it was my mother’s brother telling me my mom passed away. The whole room stopped , light was pressed away and it was just me standing alone in my room. The emptiness that filled the room was disgusting , confusion filled my head space. All I could feel was that seven year old boy that I tried so hard to push down burst through all the walls , my heart broke , my eyes burned and all I wanted to do was just hear someone say “ sike “ but no such thing happen. This was real , the woman that destroyed was finally dead but why did I feel so much regret?
Angie was one of a kind stood 5’7 bright red hair down to her shoulders and very loud , I mean just your regular Puerto Rican woman. She was full of light and laughter something my family carried well , but Angie also had her demons. Having her demons didn’t make her a bad mother just a confused one , she did try her best and I don’t usually share that with people, all this time my hatred blinded me to see the times she actually try to get us back and be better. She fought public scrutiny, whispers from family members that always commented her weight loss but never offered a hand to guide her.
Oh Angie how I miss you and you’re voicemails starting with “ Shawn it’s your mother “. Our relationship was complex we didn’t talk every day and sometimes it would be forever until we spoke or seen each other. She always knew that I was her most violent one and at the same time she felt pride in that , her little creation was exactly how she wanted it to be. How I’ll miss the bachata dancing in the kitchen , you singing Paula Abdul and laughing at the smallest jokes. The fact that you took me in when I was an addict and you tried to wash my pain away while you was battling your own addiction showed me a side of you will always stand against time.
Unfortunately with her sudden death and my brother Christopher being the oldest and out of state , it fell all on me. The flowers , services , food and the setup. Thinking that this was some fucked up joke that Angie made with god. The son that never got along with her , the one she made feel was never enough had to lay her rest the way I thought would be fit. Sitting down in the funeral home talking about my mother services was unreal , it felt like I didn’t belong in that room making those decisions , how would I know what she would wanted when I spoken to her in two years. How do I decide what to do when her and I never seen eye to eye.
I’ve been swallowing my feelings since last Saturday and I’m scared I’m losing the every day battle to make sure it stays down. I’m so torn from being happy that she’s dead to hurt that I don’t have her anymore. I’m so angry at her because she gave me the anger to keep walking through whatever life throws at me. Anger has been my bestfriend and with her being alive I always had a reminder. Without anger I’m no one , who could I be when the one thing that kept me going in gone. What do I do now that my mothers dead , why do I feel like apart of me is missing. Why do I miss someone when in all reality Half me is glad she’s dead.
Grief is weird and unexplainable, some time days I wanna scream , some days I wanna laugh and others I wanna just be quiet and watch. It’s rough for me to even write all of this because before last Saturday most of my friends never even seen a picture of my mom. Now the whole world knows who my creator is and it’s overwhelming. All I can say is I love you mom and I miss you. Continue to rest easy.
Uncertain Changes 