Goodnight Mom.

I have been a bit out of it. Had a bit of writers block the last couple of months. Not many entries. But I think it’s time to release.

I lost a part of me this month. I watched life slowly slip away from someone that I found myself very quickly close to again. A part of me that was always in the background. A part of me that I pushed away so so long ago. A part of me that I convinced myself was unnecessarily heartbreaking. I walked away….hell I ran away and never looked back. I wanted nothing to do with it, and had everything to do with it without really knowing. My life so to say has been difficult, it’s been painful, but it’s also been quite extraordinary and beautiful. We are all faced with our own afflictions, and the way we face them defines who we are.

Momma Myra.

Mom and Randy :)

Found daddys hat :)

I think I placed all negative aspects of that life on one person, as if their existence was the sole meaning for my malfunction. In reality my mother, wasn’t the bane of my existence. She wasn’t the catalyst for depression or insecurity. She created me to be stronger person. She forced me to face the world earlier than I would have hoped, but what do I really know.

She looked so happy :)

What her wrongs taught me, were what my rights were. My right to get away, my right to make a better life, my right to write myself into another kind of story and to recreate myself. And I did. A very long time ago. And I did so with no appreciation given to her. If it weren’t for the obstacles that she placed in front of me, and the pain that she may have caused me I would have left on my journey to the real world a bit delusional. For that I thank her. She gave up a life that she had created in so many of her dreams. She gave up her dream, and instead lived a smaller life, in a smaller town, with a much smaller me. She was larger than that town. She didn’t belong there, she wasn’t happy there, and she was misunderstood. She was an artist, passionate, intense, and strong. She lived a life that was created for someone else, she was trapped, and I didn’t really understand that until today.

 Looking through my old house, through her old photos and journals. I realize now more than ever I left her so long ago. I was a child completely unaware of the cruel realities of the world, and what they can do to ones faith and temper. I didn't understand her breakdowns, I didn't understand what I had done to make her treat me the way she did. She may have been wrong in the way she executed that misunderstanding, but either way she was my mother and I wasn’t there.

She fought harder than anyone I know, she had battles of epic proportion within her own mind and soul, and she was a misunderstood woman. I do feel like maybe in a different time, if I had been able to transport myself into the old photos I found of her I may have gotten to know a softer side of her. She looked so happy. She smiled, she was beautiful, and she had lightness to her. The people that surrounded her seemed so happy and so free spirited. I didn’t get to experience that with her, because by the time I came into her life she'd already suffered so much. She’d already experienced too much loss and too much heartbreak …..So that’s what I felt........ that’s what she had projected on me. And I hated her for it, for so long.

People are misunderstood, and they retreat, and they withdrawal and this dis-include themselves. That’s what my mother did. And that is what I did. There was a part of her that was so beautiful, and natural, and creative. Her words were so smooth, the way she wrote, the way she created characters on paper and brought them to life. The way she studied her dreams, and depicted them through stories and sketches. She was brilliant with ink, and lead. She inspired me in that way, I do remember that.

Me and Uncle Joe.

I think this is the best way to remember her. And if I were to continue to blame, and withdrawal I would have learned nothing from this entire experience. And that’s what life is, it’s an experience. The good and the bad. Not all of it can be explained, and not all is meant to be understood. But this is my life, and my family has been a mess, and I left it. But I can’t do that anymore. Because my mother’s death would have all been in vain. There was a part of her that was very very very much beautiful, and I think we all forgot that. Only in her last days was she able to soften her layers, and let the barriers down.

 But she did. And we talked, and we told stories, and we remembered things from a different life that we shared so long ago. And she became my mother all over again. She wasn’t herself, she wasn’t strong anymore, and she wasn’t stubborn. She was just scared. She was scared to leave the world in the way she was going too. She wanted change. And things did change. A lot of things. So she wasn’t too late. She was so much more than the choices she made.

In all honesty I am very very much like her, although she may be gone, and although she may not have a voice of her own anymore….a large part of her lives in me, whether I have tried to deny it for years or not. I am my mother’s daughter, and her story isn’t over yet……it's just taken on a new protagonist.

Me and Cousin Gracey.

The Old Porch :)

Daddy's Project.....Our Treehouse

Gran  Ella, and Gramp Mel

Rest in Peace Mama, one day we will get a chance to read that story together again. In a new place. A pure place. A peaceful place.

Just like you I write to release. Your free now, and I am happy to remember you in a different light. I hope your happy wherever you may be. Say hello to grandma, and grandpa, and daddy, and Uncle Jay for me. We will miss you.

Love.

Echo Giesel ;)

In Loving Memory of Michelle Fillip. Died Oct. 14th 2011.