1 August 2013
Looking back on my childhood and at all of the dreams I had, I have to realize that my life today is far from what I had dreamed of. Growing up without a mother and raised by an absentee father, I had to learn at an early age to take care of myself and to depend on myself for my basic needs. I spent most of my days daydreaming about the mother I did not have. In my dream world, she was well and alive: a beautiful, loving and caring woman who loved me unconditionally. I grew up, graduated from college, married a man with three children of his own, and realized that I still, more than ever, live in a dream world where my mother is well and alive. In my forties, I am a grown woman with unrealistic dreams and wishes, all linked to my mother’s absence: wishes that I had known her and that she was still alive, that I had met my husband at a younger age, and wishes that I had a child of my own. My mother met my father when she was in a catholic boarding school and, if I should believe what my father said, on the verge of becoming a nun. So she had me when she was still in high school, and the first eighteen months of my life, I spent with her. When my father refused to marry her, she gave me away, and my father took me to his mother. I stayed with my grandparents until the age of eight and went to live with my father when he got married to my step-mother. Every single day of my childhood, I felt my mother’s absence and still today, I feel that emptiness, that void. I never knew what it meant to be held by the loving arms of a mother and to be loved and protected by a mother. From what I have heard and read, there is nothing like a mother’s unconditional love for her child. I only wish that I had lived and experienced it for myself. I wish I had known her, spent time with her, held her in my arms. I wish I had her in my life so I could talk to her about my dreams, my hopes, and my fears. I wish she...
Please join StudyMode to read the full document