The Story of a Goodbye

My mother. Two words that can pull the full spectrum of emotions from my core. She was the first love I would know as well as the first heartbreak. When I'm doing something I know is wrong, hers is the voice I hear in my head. I don't know if there is a "typical" mother/son relationship, but if there is ours was a world away. Our life together was a rollercoaster ride and our goodbye was beautiful.

She was nineteen years old and living in San Diego California when she made the trip back to her hometown in Kansas to have her first child. My father was in the navy so shortly after I was born the two of us headed back to be with him. The marriage soon ended and she and I returned to Kansas. I tell this part of the story to emphasize the bond we had. Just the two of us. Within a year of our return she met and fell in love with the man she would stay with for the rest of her life. Unfortunately her love cost us immeasurably. He drank, was abusive and jealous. So much so that being living proof of my mothers love for another man, I had three strikes against me right off the bat. After a particularly violent beating my Grandmother on mom's side, stepped in and the decision was made for me to move in with her and my Grandfather. The birth of my younger sister and the fact that mom already had one divorce were the deciding factors. The beatings continued but they did so without me. We lived in the same town and although she would visit a couple of times a week I never called her house "home" again. We settled into a surface relationship of saying the things we were supposed to say but never really talking.

When I turned eleven my Grandparents adopted me. With just a few strokes of a pen they were, legally, my parents. My mom became my sister, my sister was my niece, and my uncles were now my brothers. After she passed away I found out differently but at the time I thought she was okay with the adoption and that led to a serious resentment issue rising inside me. That same year a demon that I would battle for decades to come made it's first appearance. I stole some of my grandfathers' pain medication and took it to school to sell. After taking too many a friend of mine had to be hospitalized and I had my first taste of the destruction drugs would bring me. By the time I was sixteen I was a two time runaway and the addiction had a strong foothold. Mom would try to be a parent and I would have none of it. And the resentments grew on both sides of the fence. We had horrible fights and some unforgiveable things were said. When I launched into full blown heroin addiction I left her with no choice but to cut off contact. She refused to watch me die in front of her. We now operated in a cycle of me getting loaded, her cutting off contact, me getting clean, her trusting again,and me getting loaded. Rinse and repeat.

Six and a half years before she passed away she suffered a stroke that robbed her of the life she loved. Her speech, and walking were among the hardest hit. We were in the no-contact phase for most of this time but a year before her death I got clean for what would be the last time. She simply could not trust the fact that I would stay clean so she stayed closed off to me. I didn't trust the fact either but I still tried. Her last two months were filled with becoming unresponsive but not able to let go. She had a hospice worker that she would talk to who shared with my sister that mom was talking about me a lot and, possibly, that was why she couldn't move on. My sister called me on a Saturday to tell me this, and that mom had been unresponsive for two days so I packed up my guitar and bummed a ride for the three hour trip to her. Early Sunday morning I walked into her room without a clue as to what I would say. I played a few of her favorite songs and put the guitar down. I went to the head of her bed and held her hand and as I did her eyes sprang open and she turned her head to me. She was still beautiful. Her eyes were alive and dancing but she was too weak to say anything. I told her that I was so sorry for all I had done and that I had forgiven her long ago. I asked her to please forgive me and kissed her cheek. I told her I loved her but I thought it was time for her to go home. I played to her some more and in a few hours my momma went home.

There were so many things I didn't know about her and that is with me always, but I know she waited for me and she loved me enough to let me sing her home. Sometimes the only second chance is a goodbye.