You brought me into this world - or so you keep reminding me.
But even in that you lied - I was a Cesarean progeny...
You showered me with love, affection, tenderness
You were my first love true and just as invariably cruel.
As you abandoned me to the drunken machinations of that
sadistic madman you married - you feminist fool...
I don't even think you noticed the latest sacrifice on the altar of your career
Your only son, the dearest love you ever received from a man.
You were my heroine, I your biggest fan.
You traded me for a few dollars more and some empty feminist dreams
Thinking no one before you, you could dictate the terms of your life.
Who did you think you were? You thought you could avoid the realities of life?
Invariably, time reveals the lie. The world crashing down your ears.
Everyone was surprised but me - I could see it coming on for years.
But I could not save you as I was not, how did you put it, one of your 'peers'?
Only speak when spoken to was the motto I reminisce the most.
First your aneurysm, then your cancer, immobile, drowning in the bitter self-pity of your obliterated career
But still, there I was, loving you, trying to wipe away your tears. Everyone but me abandoned you - but even I had selfish hope.
Wanting, hoping my mommy would come back....
The one who taught me to be happy. Maybe she would finally notice me and we could start to build our story.
But you didn't care about that shit - all you could focus on was that your life had turned crappy.
Bitter, resentful, nothing could make you happy. "You wasted your energy on helping others" I distinctly remember you said.
But I was the only one there, standing by the bed. I never asked for anything, all I did was gave. I realized then and there in your world
I didn't exist, I was just another pathetic relative, incapable to self-subsist.
It was deliciously ironic - such an independent, free woman, has to depend on a teenager she scorned
to feed her, exercise, clothe and bathe her.
It was I who took care of you, cared about your health, Have you back some sense of dignity and hope
in the prison of your shell. Your personal private, well-deserved hell...
But no matter what I did in life, it was never good enough.
You scorned me, mocked me, never forgave me for loving you. And even that was not enough.
Twice, I almost died. And despite my better judgement. Well-meaning foolish friends cajoled me to call you
"You're her only son, she's your mother" they implored. But they didn't know you like we know each other - but they soon
were enlightened. And frightened that a mother could treat her only cub so cruelly and leave him so slighted.
Even though you were venomous and cruel and reminded me of what it was to shed real tears.
My 'friends' still question my soul - what did you do to deserve this? Somehow a mother's love is sacrosanct.
Perhaps Gracian said it best:
"Many break the mirror that reminds them of their ugliness. We do not like seeing those who have seen us as we are: nor is he seen In a favorable light who has seen us in an unfavorable one.
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