"I am a bad child" - My Mother

I am an only child.

I am an only child to a single mother.

I am an only child to a singe mother left by her mate.

My mother was a VERY Roman Catholic woman who found her mate, and continued her life with no other thought of finding love or happiness in another mate.

Growing up I never thought anything was different or wrong with not having a father. I never even questioned why I had no father. I never questioned where the other half of my genome came from.

I was an extremely happy child. I was given more than most happy children, with 2 parents and 1.5 brothers or sisters, had around me. I did not want. If there was a G.I Joe, I got it. If there was a Transformers toy I wanted I received it. If there was a Star Wars toy I wanted, I received it. I was happy and did not want.

No. I was not spoiled. I did not ask for EVERY this or that. If there were 10 jets that G.I. Joe had in distribution I did not want all ten. I only wanted my favorite one. No. I did not want the one that was the high end $150 toy. I always wanted the one that was most reasonable. I saw kids that had the Space shuttle but I thought it was useless. How can you fly that around in the backyard in your hand playing? You couldn't. I hope you understand where I am going with this. I didn't want the biggest or "shiniest". I just wanted the one I could have the most fun with my toys. I was not a toy wish list hog. You don't understand and I'll move on.

The problem stems from this... And I will have to digress a bit.

My mother had a great deal of help in raising me from my amazing Grandmother. Now I could do a whole series on what my grandmother gave up to help raise me, but that may be for another time. The point is that she did actually have a partner in the form of grandmother. She took care of me for many years in the way a partner would until the point her kidneys gave out and her old age over powered her.

That is where things started to fail.

My grandmother was on dialysis, and a diabetic, while I was a Freshmen in High School. My mother had a phobia about needles. If you know about kidney failure, and diabetes, you know that someone had to give my "Abuela" a shot regularly. My mother could not handle doing it herself. Now this ties into a while different chapter but for know now this. I handled all facets of my Abuela's peritoneal dialysis, and diabetic shots. And as I hope you understand, she no longer has a helpful partner.

My Grandmother past away my Junior year of High School.

My mother and I had an understanding at the time that if for any reason I had to drop EVERYTHING and return home she would use my pager to beep me with "911".

It came.

I was just driving to a party after a Nirvana concert 20 miles from home. Actually I was not driving. My good friend was. I got the page and told him to get me the fuck home now. To his credit he drove me like a bat out of hell home. Through red lights, and stop signs we got home to a view of Paramedics and Firemen. My Grandmother had a stroke and was in a coma. For about a week, she was in the hospital. I was in the hospital with my mother the whole time. Then we received the news that she was brain dead. My mother had to pull the plug on her mother. I had to say good bye to my Abuela.

My mother is "alone".

While she is not alone, she is in fact without her partner.

You might ask about brothers and sisters my mother might have. Good question. The patriarch of the family, my oldest uncle, had passed away about 5 years earlier. My grandmothers health problems started about that time. I heard from the hospital shrinks that losing a child could be like losing a part of your soul. Losing a piece of her soul is exactly what my grandmother did. She was never the same. And this was the point her health began to fail.

I had only 2 other blood uncles. No blood aunts.

One uncle lived in the next county but was never around.

The other uncle was a homosexual whom left for his own reasons. He moved to another time zone to find his peace, with a good soul mate. I was happy for him. Not for us.

I return to my grandmothers passing.

After she was gone my mother lost a piece of her soul. Not only did she lose her mother. She lost her best friend in the world. She also lost her soul mate.

Then there was just me.

I was all my mother had. She loved me more than most parents do. I was a lucky boy. The problem was that I was just a year away from going to college.

BACKGROUND INFO - Some how my mother was able to afford to send me to one of the most prestigious High Schools in the United States. Now I did the whole Work/Study program and maintained a high enough GAP to maintain a scholarship, while maintaining another scholarship for extra curricular activities, both sports and other after school activities. I did help. But she still spent most of our income to make up the difference.

I decide where to apply to college.

I love my mother. I hope you understand this. If I have not portrayed this. Forgive me. When I began to look at possible Universities, I did not look farther than 45 minutes away from home. All of my friends looked to other time zones. Some parents even persuaded their children to look East. I loved my mother for not trying to persuade me, the only thing I asked(internally) was to just give me credit for not looking to get away.

I did not leave my mother. Every school I applied to was within 45 minutes away from her. Not because I felt an obligation to her but because I wanted to be "available."

While Stanford decided to pass on me. You can deduce from my writing skills why... I am sure...
Another, just as expensive, school decided to invite me to attend.

I go to College.

The day had come and I packed up my Mom's '73 Camero with all of my belongings for the next 8 months of my life. Pulling up to Santa Clara University in that Fall of '94 taught me many things. I was not the stereotypical freshmen. With the BMW to the right. The Mercedes to the left, and the brand new moonbeam in the front and back. The Camero I was raised in, and lived in since before I can remember, was unheard of. But I learned one thing quick...

My Mom loved, cared, and had greater hope for me than any other parent there. Not because she hoped I would make millions, or rule the Earth. She rather hoped that I would find my place, and be happy.

Week 2 happens.

I did not go home week 1. I do not go home week 2 because I am still finding my place. My mom is VERY hurt that I do not go home to see her. I try to explain that I am trying to get situated. She tries to understand but it is difficult. I would have a hard time as well. Would you not?

This cycle occurs EVERY week.

Now mind you, I go home almost every other week! If I am not able to go home my mother makes the trip down to me, to see me. May I be hung over or not. I get my dirty ass out of bed to meet my wonderful mother. I know I am a lucky boy to be able to see her so much. I have friends who don't see their parents for the whole year. I start to wonder if that is a godsend or a misfortune.


To be continued....