I want everyone who read this, to know how precious their mother should be no matter ‎what the circumstances. When I was younger I had a lot of resentment built up inside me; ‎so much I really hated my mother. She had her problems, and I guess I was too young to ‎understand—why? Let me explain what I mean.‎

My mother married straight out of high school. All I know is she was not able to ‎graduate. She had six children, one every year, except her last two were twins, me and ‎my brother. Working, for her, was totally out of the question. My father was the ‎breadwinner in the family (and an alcoholic).‎

Whenever my father was not pleased with something he wanted done, my mother suffered ‎the consequences. I can remember, as a little girl, in kindergarten or maybe even younger, ‎some awful things. One time my father was sitting on top of my mother, on the floor, with ‎all his body weight, with his hands around her neck choking her. I remember biting his leg at the tender age of like 3-4 years old in order to stop him. He would go out ‎drinking and be out all night. One time I had to bite his leg in order to get him to stop ‎choking her. Ever since then I’ve lost any kind of respect for my father, even though I ‎shouldn’t.‎

Well, it finally happened. Sure all of us kids were separated and put in foster homes. But ‎in the long run, my mother was happier (so I thought). We wouldn’t have to endure ‎watching my father physically beating up my mother anymore. But I guess if someone ‎takes a woman’s children away, it can really be emotionally scarring for her, too.‎

Soon after my mother became an alcoholic. Somehow my mother got us kids back and it ‎was awful, but I didn’t realize how bad until I went to school. We were poor and we ‎didn’t have the best of clothes, like the other kids in school, since we were on welfare. ‎We would be picked on, chased after school, it was awful. I didn’t know why no one ‎liked us. The kids even threw stones at my siblings and I. while we had to walk home from school everyday.

Well, the abuse from my father never stopped. What I mean is, even though my parents ‎were separated; now my mother was following in his footsteps. Drinking alcohol made ‎my mother turn into a horrible MONSTER! One time she put her hand through a window ‎which was next to the couch while passing out drunk, and she never felt it. She abused us ‎almost as bad as my father abused her. I will spare the details, but it just didn’t seem fair ‎she was doing that to us. Wasn’t she supposed to ‘love’ her children? No, beer and ‎cigarettes were more important to her. ‎

I lost contact with my mother growing up in foster care. I don’t why but when I turn 27 I ‎decided to go looking for her. Maybe it was all that resentment that built up inside of me, ‎or maybe because of all that she put me through as a child, who knows. And I really hated her ‎‎’best’ friend…BEER…Genesee Crème Ale, the only kind she drank. It seemed like she ‎was more miserable without it.‎

Finally, I saw my mother. I had an 18-month old child and on in the oven, as one might ‎say. She was living with my brother, the ‘one’ who was her ‘favorite’ as we were growing ‎up. Well, needless to say, he’s not her ‘so-called favorite’ anymore because he kicked her ‎out of his house when she was living with him. The circumstances are ridiculous and she ‎had nowhere to go. So, I helped her and had her stay with me for awhile. Eventually, we ‎both concluded it would be better if she got her own place in the senior citizen’s ‎apartments, which were in the same complex where I lived.‎

I didn’t realize that my mother was very sick; I guess she kept it a secret. I think she did. ‎Sometimes she would cook a lot of food and never eat any of it. So, the food would just ‎go into the garbage to waste. Since she used to love to eat (being overweight like she ‎was) I thought nothing of it. She even tried drinking beer again, and she quit like over 10 ‎years, by this point, if not more. I started thinking to myself that there was more going on ‎than I knew already, but I never knew—why?‎

Well, one day she was very sick to her stomach and she started vomiting a lot. And she ‎was the type to never go to the doctor. I sent her to the hospital in an ambulance (I didn’t ‎have a car). She willingly went, realizing I didn’t give her a choice. She returned from the ‎hospital with a diagnosis of a possible of a hernia (?). Her condition worsened. I sent her ‎again. This time something was really wrong. She could not stop vomiting. The doctors ‎found, during an ultrasound, a large mass in her ovarian area with possibility of it being ‎cancerous. She had to wait a whole month to get into surgery. Surgery was done and it was too late, it spread all throughout her body.‎

My mother went into the hospital on Mother’s Day, May 11, 1992 and never came out ‎until she passed away on July 9, 1992. This was five days after my birthday. I miss you, ‎mom, very much. “Being an adult now, I realize and understand that you (mom)had a ‎problem…ALCOHOLISM and you being a single mother, too, besides, were also hard”. ‎‎(Speaking to my mom out loud, mentally). I know because I am a single mom.‎

I now realize that I resented her and did not excuse her for what she did. I couldn’t ‎understand why a mother would ‘beat’ her own children. I am not condoning what she ‎did. I’m just letting my mother know I do love her because she is my mother. I am glad I ‎was able to tell her that I understood that it wasn’t her, before she passed; it was the ‎alcohol which made her such a MONSTER.‎

I want children or adults who read this to try and understand that if they have an abusive ‎and/or alcoholic parent that it’s not that they DON’T love their children it’s their alcoholism ‎or whatever other problem they have. Just DON’T STOP loving them. They are your ‎parent(s). And “MOM, I DO LOVE YOU.”‎

‎ ~by Judy M. Jackson‎