Inheritance

A mi querida Madre,

You've always been a beautiful, strong, direct, and honest woman, and no one appreciates that more than me, your daughter.

In following your example I'm going to be direct and honest with you too. When I was younger, we argued almost constantly. I bring it up often enough you pretty much believe that's all I remember about the way you raised me. Mama, let me tell you that so much of that arguing stemmed from the language barrier between us.

My first language was Spanish obviously, because you only knew one language while I learned two. I remember speaking it fluently to all my relatives at one point. Then I began attending school where I was taught English. Little by little my Spanish began withering away and I began to embrace English more. Everything I'd learned in elementary school would be in English. I read and wrote in English to communicate with the world... at the cost of communicating with you. As far as I can tell you never resented my learned language, you'd just teased me, why I didn't know Spanish more? Though I'd argue I knew Spanish enough to respond to questions, not enough to hold a conversation for a long time, and certainly not enough to understand some jokes, or anecdotes, or what you'd say when you'd get angry when I didn't listen or understand what you were saying. So much of your life advice was lost in translation, only made a little more confusing when you spoke in broken English when you took classes to learn.

Mama, don't blame me for writing this letter in English, because you know I can articulate what I have to say more coherently this way instead of Spanish. Not that I never improved. All the novelas we watched together and asking you to translate the confusing parts were better teachers than my middle and high school Spanish teachers ever were. You're probably thinking, this is getting pretty long winded. Why am I telling you all this? What's my point?

Starting with, if I had to credit anyone or anything who or what opened the floodgates to my imagination, what made me embrace writing and drawing so much. I'd usually credit some old childhood friend who introduced me to comic books and genres like sci-fi and fantasy. When you wanted me to do something more feminine like sell homemade jewelry at my elementary school's Christmas fair, I wanted to sell homemade comic books, we compromised and did both. I remember you were reluctant and unhappy to get my amateur paper comic copied and printed. I appreciated it, but I still remember the guilty feeling that I might've asked for too much. There was also reading a number of Magic Tree House books by, Mary Pope Osborne, two of which I begged you to buy till I cried and made a huge fuss over it at a store where I embarrassed you and myself. Heck I even credit cartoons, anime, and movies for broadening my imagination, I was devastated that the few things I enjoyed were the things I was criticized for the most. Si Mama, I am crying as I write this down. Now I can't see the damn keyboard or screen. I know you don't like it when I curse, I rarely use it in writing because a majority of my stories aren't written in my voice or point of view, but in that of a fictional character or a third person narrator. Writing and reading in in second person p.o.v is my least favorite format, though it's necessary in letters and sometimes poetry. I also know you like it even less to see me cry, and I hate crying in front of you. You get worried, you start fussing, sometimes you give me this strange look like a grew a second head, my least favorite reaction is when you get angry or irritated at me when I cry when you don't understand what went wrong.

"This is the worst Mother's Day letter on Earth!" You're probably thinking. Maybe you'd rather have the flowers, the pretty cards covered in glitter, a Michael Kors purse or fragrance, some Lindt Lindor chocolate or Ferrero Rocher, god knows I can go for some myself, but this letter came with a task and I intend to see it through.

I genuinely don't know why you ever thought I would be thinking, 'I hate my mom,' when I was younger. I don't know who put that in your head that I would even think such a thing, I can't think of a time I ever said it out loud, let alone thought it. After every argument we've ever had I never once thought that, because I knew all along everything you ever did, 'trabajando como un burro,' as you would say it, at a dead-end job was for me and my siblings' benefit. I understood and appreciated many of the sacrifices you made for our family. It's not like I don't remember a lot of the good memories between us, but I bring up the bad memories often to call you out before you make similar mistakes with my younger sister. You're not Madre Maravilla, you're only human, it's not realistic to say you're the best mom in the world. I wouldn't blame you if that's all you want written, "Happy Mother's Day to the WORLD'S BEST MOM!" However you are the strongest mother I've ever known, the most resourceful, logical, wisest, and ironically enough the most creative, despite the fact you and I are creative in different ways, you with cooking, make up and planning and me with writing and drawing. No other mother I've ever seen, spoken to, or met has ever compared. to what you're capable of and who you are, shaped me in many different ways, for good or bad.

Mama, you influenced me in ways you probably never imagined or ever intended. You're not a patient woman, however when you got serious and started speaking about your experiences in life when I was young, I could swear I can write a cliche telenovela about your life, and every year as I got older you'd add more layers to your story unveiling and revealing details you hadn't before until it all came together. Outsiders may've influenced what genres of stories I enjoy writing, but you shaped a key thing about myself, how to tell stories by telling me your own:

Maybe there was love once between my grandparents, No one's given me a lot of details about how they got together or why they separated. Then Abuelita remarried a wealthy man and Mama, felt like a princess wearing fresh clothes and eating a meal every day. Or at least as much as a princess a girl could feel being responsible for her younger siblings when Abuelita was too busy and the stepfather not doing much to care for children. Mama's heart is very sweet to still think of her first stepfather fondly for all the good he was in her and her family's lives, both emotionally and financially. I recall Mama saying he had been the only man she ever called, Papa. He was much older than Abuelita with kids of his own who were likely young adults. Mama never resented him for his outdated views on roles of childcare. In fact I wouldn't blame Mama if she would rather not change where that path in life was going. Unfortunately Mama's first stepfather passed away and Abuelita, Mama, her sister, and her new half brother from Abuelita's second marriage were thrown out of the nice house they once lived in and forced to start over.

When Abuelita remarried for the third and final time after having moved around in a struggle to make ends meet. More siblings arrived with this new marriage, however the family had to bare the devastating weight of leaving my tía, Mama's only sister from Abuelita's first marriage behind with Bisabuela, my great grandmother who would claim to grow ill if Tía Martha ever left her. Abuelita felt compelled to leave her second daughter behind with Bisabuela for her wellbeing while she took Mama and the rest of her siblings under a new beaten, and dirty, barely held together roof. Mama bared more responsibilities than any seven year old should bare constantly piling up on Mama's shoulders.

Stepfather #2, a literal piece of shit was a good for nothing deadbeat who had Abuelita working harder than she should have for a family of nine. With his arrival came changes to Abuelita's attitude and personality towards Mama all instigated and partaken by the deadbeat, and Mama was abused, whacked with cable cords, hair pulled, criticized and blamed for everything and anything that could go wrong, forced to handle all the chores even cook for her large family with barely enough to feed herself with her soups being mostly boiled water with few ingredients. She was often left to go hungry, while enduring physical and verbal abuse, and eventually forced to drop out of secondary school in Mexico to watch over her siblings. Mama learned to be a mama at a very young age to her siblings, except for Tía Martha who grew up separately in a safer, stable, but lonelier environment.

Mama often dreamed of having an older brother to protect her, however she's the oldest who loves and cares dearly for all of her younger siblings instead. They occasionally caused her some mayhem by getting sick or injured and having her run them to the nearest hospital by herself on occasion. Mama may've not had an older brother, but she had a padrino and a madrina or godfather and godmother. Normally padrinos or godparents are a married set, but in Mama's case her padrinos were a pair of unmarried siblings to Abuelita who met the requirements of godparent in Catholicism. Baptism, confirmation, unmarried and unattached to a partner when Mama had been baptized. Mama's padrino, whom she called Papa-Nino a nickname given to her padrino whom everyone would call him by when she failed to pronounce it correctly when she was a child and Nina Lola, short for Madrina Lola.

Papa-Nino and Nina Lola were Mama's parental figures for a majority of her childhood after Abuelita married the deadbeat. Mama cherished her padrinos as if they were her true parents who provided her with all the love and support she was missing at home. Mama mentioned Papa-Nino played the guitar and had a fun sense of humor. He was endearing and compassionate, especially towards Mama, whom he regarded as his own daughter. Going as far as to having the honor to dance with Mama for the father-daughter dance during her quinceñera. Mama had so many plans to spend time with him that unfortunately didn't come to fruition before he passed away. Nina Lola was the mother Abuelita couldn't be for Mama. She's kind, endearing, and full of spark. She loves talking about anything and everything making the channel of communication a comforting presence around her. Unfortunately, there wasn't much Mama's Padrinos could do about her living situation. While Mama lived in Colima they lived in Sayula and I can imagine the costs to travel and taking any issue to court would be too expensive and Nina Lola eventually had daughters of her own to care for. I imagine Nina Lola and Pap-Nino respected their sister too much to raise the issue of Mama's living conditions with her. Mama's moments of contentment with her Padrinos would come far and few between whenever they got the chance to see them.

Mama spent her days running errands for the family, chores, babysitting, and getting beaten regularly enough for the whole pueblo to know about it. But times were different in Mexico nearly thirty years ago and people mainly kept to themselves, and Mama's abuse went unreported. Then one day when Mama was fifteen as she was off on an errand outside the house, she'd see a small business full of hardworking men and a couple of lazy guys lying about on the ground while the other men worked hard. She passed them almost daily when she'd be off running errands. Then one day one of the lazy guys worked up the nerve to talk to her.

"What's your name?" Mama knew better than give away her real name to strangers, she did it often enough when she was young, she could easily make up a name on the spot, and this guy was lazy and absolutely not worth her time.

"Adelaida." She answered. Somehow her real name slipped out without her permission in the introduction, and the man introduced himself as Javier. Since then, every now and then Javier would try to have conversations with Mama as she passed by the small business to get her errands done.

"You're always so busy. Where are you off to every day?" Javier asked,

"Why don't you worry less about what I do and worry more about why you're never busy when I walk by." The other workers behind Javier snickered and playfully teased Javier, but Javier wasn't deterred by Mama's jab.

"Oh, c'mon guys! That's the thanks I get for working the night shifts." Javier playfully scolded the others and Mama reeled at the revelation left thinking she judged him unfairly. Javier and the others had a good laugh, and Mama hoped they wouldn't notice she was slightly embarrassed.

"Since I'm not busy, want to go for a walk?" Javier asked.

Mama never fully explained to me how she'd ever have time for dates or anything outside the house since she'd always be busy. According to her she didn't have many friends growing up because her family was always moving. She would also isolate herself during her school days, embarrassed of her impoverished upbringing in comparison of the other students. She did however have a boyfriend before meeting Papa, God knows how she kept that secret from Abuelita and the deadbeat stepdad. She probably chose not to tell me so I wouldn't get any ideas growing up. She did tell me one of her first dates was an evening walk through the park and how she didn't see Javier all that often anymore after that. They went on two other dates and he pretty much vanished after that. It's not like he ghosted Mama, he had work that demanded he go across the border to deliver crates of oranges between Mexico and California. He went quite a distance from Colima. The two wrote letters to each other, though I'm not sure how many of them survived. I only ever saw one or two Mama had kept. Mama had to endure at least two months without Javier by her side. Her heavy workload at home as well as the abuse wouldn't let up. Nothing changed in her life without him.

By the time Javier returned from his extended work at the border Mama had already learned the name of the love of her life, through a brief meeting with Javier's mother of all people.

"Luis? Who's Luis?" Mama would ask her.

"My son of course."

"... Which one?"

Javier had around twelve siblings in total. The odd look was returned right back towards Mama. Only for Javier's mother to start giggling as she realized the minor misunderstanding.

When Mama and Javier were reunited yet again Mama greeted him back to Colima along with Abuelita. Mama and Javier shared an embrace, relieved and excited to see each other again.

"Welcome home, Luis." Mama had said. Javier pulled back stunned at the name.

"Wha- Luis?" Javier asked. Mama wasn't the least bit embarrassed at her slip up, all she did was raise a smug brow at him. Abuelita approached him with a mischievous chuckle and hugged Javier to welcome him home too. She laughed as he continued to have that bewildered look on his face.

"After all these years you never knew your own first name apparently." Javier was still confused before it sunk in. Luis and Javier are one and the same. Luis had grown up referred to by his middle name his whole life leaving his first name neglected and abandoned. Why he decided to start going by Luis as soon as he found out, I'll probably never understand. Not that it really matters what name he goes by, I never called him by either. I grew up calling him, Papa.

Papa wasted no time as soon as he got back to ask Mama,

"Leave with me."

Mama thought about her life, and what she would be leaving behind if she left with Papa. She had many responsibilities at home, many of which should not have been hers in the first place, as well as the threat of abuse looming over her head if she stayed.

"Yes." Mama knew Abuelita nor the deadbeat would harm her siblings since she was the scapegoat. Mama had no idea what she was agreeing to or where she and Papa would be going to. I've never been given the full details how Mama left the house one day, again she possibly didn't want to give me ideas. She likely didn't have too many items to pack. Papa came from a financially decent family, below middle class and above the poverty line, he also dropped out but by choice, he worked and pulled his weight within his large family helping his parents out however he could. Mama on the other hand was way under the poverty line. Mama isn't inherently materialistic, but she was aware she was in a bad situation at home and needed to get out. So, she ran away with him as soon as the opportunity was presented.

Before the two ran off they bid my abuelitos, from Papa's side goodbye and several of his siblings. Abuelita and Abuelito gave their blessings of course once Papa told them he planned to meet up with his closest brothers in age who were currently in California, however Abuelita made sure they didn't leave without one final note from her.

"You know what this poor girl has been through, you must take care of her." Abuelita had told Papa. Mama reinforced this promise in her own way.

"I'll go." Mama had told Papa. "I'll walk away the second you lay a hand on me. I'll take myself and our children out of your life the second we feel mistreated by you. I saw how my mother changed after she married that deadbeat. I won't let my life turn out that way." My older brother hadn't even been conceived yet. I doubted they had even left Colima yet. Mama made her stance intensely clear to Papa while simultaneously letting him know she was in this for the long haul. Wherever they were going they will build a life together when they got there... Imagine her surprise when she realized they would be emigrating to America.

Two of my tíos who were conveniently married to a pair of sisters known as my tías living in the California Bay Area greeted my parents and took it upon themselves to help them get settled when they arrived. You'd think that'd be the end of the story, happily ever after and all that gibberish I'd read and write about. Papa was thrilled to connect with a few of his older brothers again... until he needed to borrow money, and Mama and my tías got off to a rocky start. Needless to say my tías weren't too thrilled with Mama arriving with my Papa. What they expected upon first meeting her was made clear right away.

"She's too scrawny."

"Can she cook?"

"Would she even clean?"

"I doubt it. Her arms would snap picking up a broom."

"Look how she dresses."

"How old is she again?"

"Younger than our sister Lettie, that's for sure."

My tias had this fantasy of setting up their third sister, a woman named Lettie with my dad so they can fulfill some fairytale cliche of three strapping brothers marrying three beautiful sisters. See what I meant about writing a novela? Mama accidentally threw a wrench at that fantasy and walked away whistling as she went out of her way to prove my tías wrong about her.

My tías gave Mama multiple household tasks to essentially prove whether or not she was worthy of being a wife. They tasked her with things to cook, areas to clean, and I'm not sure what else, but she excelled at all of it. My tías were likely worried they'd have to teach my Mama everything they knew about household work, but when Mama proved her capabilities to them they were dumbstruck at her aptitude for cooking and cleaning. Fortunately for Lettie's sake she was never invited over to compete, my tías aren't cruel and I don't believe she and my parents ever met, I certainly never have, and even my primas never mentioned Lettie to me. Sometimes I wonder if she really existed or Mama made her up. Either way Mama could've rightfully lashed out and claim to have nothing to prove to them, but Mama takes pride in her skillset as a wife and mother, she wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to show off what she can do with the right materials. She may've not grown up with a lot but she proved to be resourceful and logical to an extent by playing my tías' games with practiced confidence and winning. They say, 'play stupid games win stupid prizes,' Mama taught me, 'work hard to play smart, then you get bragging rights for the next fifty years.' Not her words, but she more or less implied it.

Eventually things soothed over between Mama and her in-laws and they learned to get along better. However Mama learned a unique type of sibling dynamic between Papa and his brothers when money got involved. Papa and Mama needed to borrow some to find their own place, however Mama was appalled at the attitude my tíos gave Papa as well as pressuring him about paying them back as soon as possible. Mama had spent so long being there for her siblings, not to mention she herself was the oldest and couldn't fathom the prospect of money potentially damaging a relationship between family until she saw it happening before her eyes. Older brothers to their younger brother, badgering him about money was an earth shattering sight to see considering how often she had dreamed about having an older brother to protect her. Whenever I complained about my own older brother when I was a kid I couldn't understand Mama's way of thinking for a long time. Mama kinda glossed over how Papa and his brothers resolved the money issue, I assumed Papa paid everything back as he was told and they got along again from there with Papa swearing to never borrow money from his brothers again. However the event left Mama with the intent to hammer in the lesson onto her future four children to always look after each other and never let anything as trivial as money get in the way of our bond as siblings with Papa backing her up every time topic is brushed upon.

Eventually My older brother, myself, my younger brother, and younger sister would be born. One of my married sets of tío and tía would eventually transition to Nino and Nina after I was baptized, I grew very fond of them. We were a close family and they were witnesses when my parents would be legally married by the time I was around three, five to ten years before my younger siblings would be born and end their wedding day shopping at Wallmart. I swear I haven't made anything up.

I can't say for certain how or when Mama got back in touch with Abuelita again. Mama hardly describes the details about what was said between them after she had run away when they managed to contact each other as best they could with long distance call of the 90s and early 2000s. However, when they conected again it was the start of a healing process between them. Unfortunately Abuelita was still and remained married to the deadbeat. As terrible of an influence he had been in contributing to the abuse caused to my Mama he wasn't the same way with Abuelita or his own kids, including Mama's first half brother from the first stepfather, and a relationship between the deadbeat and Tía Martha was all but non-existent.

Mama didn't tell me about her issues with Abuelita to get me to resent or hate her on her behalf. Frankly I was very young when Mama first told me the story of her abusive childhood. I think I threw a tantrum, got yelled at, and for some reason I thought I was going to get hit. Mama had sat me down to explain her life, how she was treated, who was the catalyst to her abuse, and explained to me why she would never harm her own children. My opinion of Abuelita growing up was slightly warped and vaguely non-existent when I first learned of her. I think I heard her on the phone a few times prior to my first official meeting to her, I had only met her once before when I was a year old but didn't know how to speak with her for years. By the time I officially met Abuelita Mama had told me a lot about the woman who raised her. How she had treated her and how she had drastically changed after the third marriage and especially after Mama ran off. Abuelita worked to be a better mother, worked to provide for her family both financially and household duties, all without the aid of the deadbeat whom she continued to keep around, and Mama had no say in it. I recall how Mama told me she would rather see Abuelita with someone by her side even if he's not the best support than be away from her knowing she'd be lonely, and as a kid I kind of just had to respect that, and respect Mama's wishes to get to know Abuelita when I met her at eleven years old. I'll never forget how my shoes sunk in the mud outside her house when I first got out of the car after nearly two days of traveling from The Bay Area to Mexico. I remember clearly the impact of her embrace. How she ran up to me in a muddy ground I easily got trapped in and this old woman bigger than me and Mama, charged threw it to hold me like it was nothing. I vaguely remember nearly falling over. That was my first in person interaction of Abuelita I would have memory of. Someone full of alegre and unconditional love for her family. I don't think she ever knew Mama had told me a lot of controversial stories about her, but Mama had shown me she was willing to forgive so long as people were willing to change to earn that forgiveness and atoned for her past actions. I took that lesson to heart the more and more years I got to spend with Abuelita.

The deadbeat mellowed out so to speak, at least what I've seen of him, but Mama resented him. He was never around when we visited, he was not family to Mama and especially not her father. Abuelita and my tíos from Mama's side respected her justified reasons for avoiding him and never complained when he wasn't around. He lacked severely as a husband to Abuelita. He had a job although I wasn't sure how much he earned or how much that provided for his family.

Mama never regarded him as the type of man who took caring for his family seriously, and had come to regard her own biological father far more highly than him. I know it sounds strange. Wouldn't the man who abandoned Mama, Tía Martha, and Abuelita be regarded as the deadbeat over the step-deadbeat? I thought so too, for many years of my life. Up until Tía Martha had tracked him down when she found his name on a registry at the bank she used to work at. I swear I'm not making it up.

By the time I was in high school Mama and Tía Martha found Abuelito. Deep down I always disregarded Abuelito's existence. He wasn't there for Mama or Tía Martha when they needed him most. Mama throughout her childhood of abuse and Tía Martha whom had confessed once to having felt abandoned and unwanted by her immediate family throughout her lonely childhood with Bisabuela. I'll never understand Bisabuela's claims to feel ill if-ever Tía Martha left her side, but from what I gather, Tía Martha was never mistreated by Bisabuela. Hearing that Abuelito was found was like watching a ghost manifesting before me. I always resented the thought of him for most of my life thinking him no better than the deadbeat, and Mama likely felt the same way. Tía Martha however was ready to pursue finding and meeting him and Mama took some time to come to terms with this discovery, before eventually siding with Tía Martha. I respected Mama's wishes since she was willing to give him a chance to explain himself and his life choices.

Abuelito now had a family of his own and never returned to Mama's life believing he would be some kind of intruder, he wasn't even aware he had a second daughter prior to his and Abuelita's divorce. Mama told me she respected his decisions and they chose to mend their relationship from that point of their first in person reunion. Mama also chose not to tell him everything she had been through.

"It wouldn't change anything. I have nothing to gain by making him feel guilty."

There was a lot to say between them, but in short, they built a father-daughter relationship from scratch and through him my family tree extended as Mama was introduced to other relatives who hadn't seen Mama since she was a baby and his wife and children were incredibly kind and welcoming to all of us. In such a short amount of time he proved to Mama, Tía Martha, and even to me he was indeed a respectable father and family man, both to his own family and his estranged daughters. Mama instantly developed respect for him and the two grew close. She finally had a father again.

This might sound a bit sidetracked, but Mama waited over twenty years to have her Catholic Church wedding with Papa and had Mama's Papa-Nino lived to see the day, he would've walked her down the isle regardless of the fact Abuelito was there. Abuelito told her right away he would've respected and understood. He held Papa-Nino in high regard and was saddened to learn of his passing, but since Abuelito was here now he took the roll in honor of Papa-Nino and for the sake of the daughter he left behind and gained again.

Abuelito had done far more for Mama's emotional well being like a true father unlike the deadbeat in a short amount of time. In fact, the deadbeat's lack of positive action within the family resulted in his inability to care for Abuelita when she fell ill to covid. Abuelita spent her whole life caring for him and the moment she needed it in return, he lacked experience of all things. Leaving Abuelita's care in the hands of her children. Some who already had families and lives of their own yet still made the effort to help, or young adults who weren't ready to handle the responsibility. There was a group effort between Mama and her siblings to help Abuelita get past the disease, getting her anything she might need to help her get better at home. Buying a more comfortable bed, an oxygen tank, sending funds for groceries and bills. Mama felt so helpless being all the way in California where she can simply send money and direct her younger siblings from a distance while the rest of her siblings were left with the responsibility, she felt she could've done more had she been there. Quarantine, the fear Abuelita had of Mama getting sick and being unable to work, or passing it on to her family, and Abuelita herself asked Mama to stay away. Abuelita had said to Mama,

"Don't come here. You're helping me far more by staying away."

Abuelita was hospitalized, no one was allowed to visit due to quarantine guidelines, and we lost her. I wonder if Mama ever wished Abuelita hadn't chosen to protect her this once.

-

Mama sometimes in life I feel like I had been broken down and rebuilt over and over again sometimes feeling like I'm never a whole person. Sometimes I feel like I get put under a lot of pressure to achieve great things to make you proud. When I was young you all but rendered yourself to be nothing more than a housewife and mother to me and my brother, but much like you'd shown off to my tías proving how much more you can be, you sought the opportunity to learn English so you can communicate more, you sought a job so you and Papa can afford a car, you learned how to drive so you can feel more independent. You never let your environment, your upbringing, your economic class, or anyone break you down and kept pushing forward because you grabbed opportunities when they manifested. I could've said all this right from the beginning. Anyone can be that role model for their children, but if you hadn't told me your story I wouldn't have learned to embrace the family values you wanted me to grow up with any better from anyone else.

Thank you for being, Mama.

Sincerely,

Tu hija.