A Mothers Love Lost

My little sister Anita was born at the time and having a baby sibling around made me feel like a big kid or a parent. I loved holding her and feeding her with a bottle my mom taught me to do while she worked at a night shift (maturation). My fourth grade year is probably the time I went through the most out of my elementary school years. I found out things were getting hectic between my parents. I would see them fight almost every day about money, cheating, and where did they go in their free time. One night when my mom came home from grocery shopping they were verbally fighting and yelling at each other. I heard it from the living room and I went into the kitchen to see them. All of a sudden, I just saw my dad pushed her into the ground and started beating her. She eventually escaped from his grip and ran into my sister’s room. She called the police and they came and arrested him for assault. I couldn’t do much because I just stood there witnessing in shock. They divorced in October while it was the beginning of my fifth grade year. I started to go through depression since the whole thing happened. I grew bitter, unmotivated for school, and even crueler towards my family and animals. I had terrible grades in my report card and I tend to get embarrassed with my teacher yelling at me. I cried over the smallest things that would happen in class. People started giving me sympathy but then got tired of it because it happened often. Around the winter time my mom started to

Is a mothers conditional love ever fully appreciated? The song “Dear Mama” by Tupac and the poem “Mother To Son” by Langston Hughes both proclaim how growing up, people don not fully appreciate their mothers. They do not acknowledge what they went through to raise them and give them the necessities of life. These two pieces express how you have to be at your worse to cherish the best.

I have come from a well-meaning but very scarring, ambivalent and dysfunctional family. My father was a sometimes physically, but often times very emotionally abusive person. Using a large amount of fear and intimidation of him to control our family and home. My mother regularly took out her anger and frustration towards my father on me since my parent’s first major separation when I was seven years old which in conjunction with the negative impact of my parents’ off and on separations leading up to their eventual divorce I developed depression, anger and other behavioral problems as well. I suffered many years of abuse from my mother as a result of these things. I understood both my parents cared for me, even though their actions often time both demonstrated it and contradicted it which lead to much confusion in relationships and friendships outside of my family. One of if not the most scarring experiences were of my mother and the adults she surrounded herself with sympathizing her abuse towards me because of the abuse she endured by my father and

I started working from the age of 18 in a restaurant as a waiter and used to help my mom in running finances of the house and well being of siblings. I met my spouse in college and brought her home to meet my mother; Mother disliked her without many reasons and wanted me to leave her or leave her house immediately. I stayed with my mother for the next six months but later on I got married to the same girl and moved out. This action enraged my mother saying that she didn't want to see my face and that I should not be present at her funeral. To make sure

I couldn’t seem to locate the big picture. The thing I felt was important was my friends, school, and most significant my home. Presently, realizing my lack of compassion, I come to the understanding my mom made this decision to better our lives. I couldn’t come to this understanding until after the move because of the occurring despair I felt before the move. In the stages of this hopelessness, I began to lash out on my mother because of this betrayal I felt she was committing to move away from the place I had my childhood and beginning of adolescence. This was an action of the negative presence or “bug” I have developed in my mind, which in every moment I carried out, I later remorse. In spite of this I knew the way I presented myself was not only new to my mom but it was also new to me, the “new” me was unfavorable. I thought the best way to retaliate to the move was to show my mother I was unhappy and maybe she just might change her mind about her decision. The more we packed to leave; I knew my theory was just a theory itself. After a couple of days I noticed my mother was pretty broken about the move also, I wasn’t making it any better with my attitude, I could see the selfish ways I was told to be

In September 2013, I came to the United States and lived with my mother for nine months. In those months, my stepfather left my mother and she became more aggressive with my sister and I. One time she went to my stepfather’s job and cut her veins and was immediately sent to the hospital, I had to take care of my little sister since then. She didn’t take care of us and was really difficult for me to take care of myself and my sister’s needs. One day on May 2014 she came home and started fighting with me saying that all her problems were my fault and threatened me with killing me, she threw my clothes out of the house and I left to my grandma’s house. I just needed to finish school before I could moved to West New York, I graduated on June 26, 2014 and that same day I came to West New York.

A good relationship with a mother can be the one of the most rewarding blessings in life. Just like any relationship a human has, there will be moments in which the relationship can be dreadful, and moments when the relationship can be superb. However, the way in which people interpret the situation, resolve the issue, and above all try to make the relationship healthier, will determine how successful the relationship will be in the future. In the excerpt by Amy Chua Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mom and the excerpt by Amy Tan The Joy luck club the authors explain how they are having an issue with their mother/daughter at a certain point in their life. These excerpts resemble the idea of a relationship not being in a state of tranquility, but

In the texts, Nineteen Thirty-Seven, by Edwidge Danticat and The Autobiography of My Mother, by Jamaica Kincaid the themes of love and loss are present as the protagonists deal with the consequences of losing their mothers. The loss of the main characters mothers has a significant effect on how the characters grow to understand love, heritage and value sacrifice. While both of the protagonists are left to deal with the unfortunate circumstances of being motherless, they react differently because of what they were taught about love. The main character from Nineteen Thirty-Seven, knew what it felt like to be loved because she was surrounded by it, but the main character from The Autobiography of My Mother, never knew love because she never felt

In my high school years I faced great hardship because of the abuse inflicted by mother. She moved me to different high schools throughout my high school career to isolate me from my peers and from teachers. My mother did not want me to have a relationship with anyone outside the family because she did not want me to divulge the abuse I experienced in the past and present to any of my teachers. My freshmen year I left Dalton high after only a few months and was moved to Southeast High School. Then my sophomore year she moved me to Northwest High School. I stayed at Northwest through Junior year of high school. The summer of Junior year my mom withdrew me from attending classes in person at Northwest Whitfield and she had me take classes online and dual enrolled at Dalton State College. Once again she isolated me from my peers and put me in a in a situation where I did not have a support group or any high school teachers around to seek help from. When I trend 18 years old my mother kicked me out of the house because she did not want me anymore.

My mother’s letter also provided me with a heartfelt, long lasting goodbye. My mother returned after only a week, however, with this note, I was left with the words of love that my mother wrote on paper for me. I come from a tight knit family, so for my mother to

family made me confine myself in a bubble. Even though I lived in a community,

My mother was in a relationship with a man, little did she know that this man was not the man she thought he was. I was about seven years old the first time I witnessed my mother physically abused. All I can remember was seeing my mother being pushed down a flight of stairs. The second time that I can remember is hearing an argument getting really heated. I went to the kitchen to see what was going on, he had a knife in his hand. I was so scared and felt helpless that I couldn’t protect my mother. I immediately called 911 in a panic. I remember a police officer questioning me. I don’t remember my mother ever talking to me about what happened it was just swept under the rug. Now that I am older I question why my mother dealt with verbal and physical abuse and stayed with this man. Of course, I can never bring my questions up to my mother. She’s just not that kind of person to talk about situations or just really talk about anything in

me down with his harsh words. At this point, I was too young to understand

    In life, many things can be taken for granted - especially the things that mean the most to you. You just might not realize it until you've lost it all. As I walk down the road finishing up my teenage days, I slowly have been finding a better understanding of my mother. The kind of bond that mothers and daughters have is beyond hard to describe. It's probably the biggest rollercoaster ride of emotions that I'll ever have the chance to live through in my lifetime. But, for those of us who are lucky enough to survive the ride in one piece, it's an amazing learning experience that will influence your entire future.

David Michael Kaplan Another postcard from you today, Mother, and I see by the blurred postmark that you're in Manning, North Dakota now and that you've dated the card 1961. In your last card you were in Nebraska, and it was 1962; you've lost some time, I see. I was a little girl, nine years old, in 1961. You'd left my father and me only two years before. Four months after leaving, you sent me—always me, never him—your first postcard, of a turnpike in the Midwest, postmarked Enid, Oklahoma. You called me "My little angel" and said that the sunflowers by the side of the road were tall and very pretty. You signed it, as you always have, "Your only mother." My father thought, of course, that you were in Enid, and he