Being the youngest sibling, I have sometimes felt the jealous stab of being ignored for my older sisters or being babied while they are treated like adults. I sometimes felt the need to compete with my older sister for our mother’s attention. My mother is the most incredible women I have ever known, and being a single parent in my early childhood, she did everything in her power to raise us with as much love and support a mother can give.
When my sister was in her senior year of high school, and I was in my sophomore year, I felt the most painful jab of jealousy. My mother was focusing more of her energy on helping my sister prepare for graduation, prom, and college – like any mother would with her first born. Being a naïve, angst-filled teenager, I felt my mother was more proud of my sister. Yes, she was graduating and planning to attend a private college on a large scholarship, but I had my small share accomplishments in music.
During this time, my step-father was not home very often due to his job, so it was always my sister, my mother and me. I felt that my mother had given up on me and lost interest in me since my accomplishments did not have as much of an impact as my sister's. Finally, one night in January, I lost it. I lit the match and the bomb went off. I told my mother she was not paying attention to me and that I hated her. Seeing the pain in her eyes tore my soul in half. In my life, I have only seen my mother cry two other times: once at my great-grandmother’s funeral, the other when we got into a car accident and the other party involved yelled at my mom, even though our car had received more damage than his.
My mother looked deep into my soul and told me how proud she was of me for learning a new instrument, for joining jazz band, and for becoming the captain of the color guard as a sophomore. I couldn’t believe it; she still loved me and was so proud of me. Then it hit me. Who was always at my concerts? Who always helped me carry guard equipment to the field? Who always cheered for me at halftime when everyone else went to get food? My mother.
I could not believe I had hurt her in the worst way. No one wants to be told by their own flesh and blood that they’re hated. My mother and I held each other and cried on my bedroom floor. Since that night, I have felt a deeper connection. I never realized how similar and I my mother and I are, from putting others needs before our own to seeing the positives in the worst people.
After my sister left for college, my mother and I were the only ones home on the weekends. It felt like "Gilmore Girls," but I didn’t care. I was so happy that my mother and I had each other. I learned so much from my mother. I never realized how much of the world she had experienced. It was the cliché of my mother being my best friend. I feel like she truly is. Now that I am in my sophomore year of college, I call my mother at least three times a week. I ask her for advice on any subject, from doing accounting homework to roommate problems. I miss my mother every day and can’t believe that she’s so far from me. I have no idea what I would do without my mother.
So, dear reader, if you haven’t told your mother, or whoever the maternal figure is in your life, thank you for everything they have done for you, shoot them a text or give them a call. I’m sure they will appreciate it. I love you, Mom, and I always will.
