In 1962 my mother, when she was 12 years old lost her father. When I think of my mothers’ trauma I grieve. I am sad for her loss, such loss for a young girl. She wasn’t allowed to go to his funeral. She was made to go to school. What does she remember about her father? I imagine her holding on to those memories – keeping him alive in her head and her heart for as long as she possibly could. Her mother and her stepfather did not allow any photographs of her father to remain in the house.
When I was 12 I lost my mother. Not to death. I removed myself from her. From time to time she changed her appearance, her physical self & her very self. I wasn’t sure who she was as she became identical to her friends. In 2014 I thought I’d try to find my mother. To move towards her. Discover her. As I draw near to her I fear losing her. Again.
2019/2022
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