A
mother’s love and a daughter’s growth
Alessia
D’Anna
ENG*4017*01
October
2, 2013
“Hey Ale, I am having surgery
Wednesday but we don’t know anything yet so I don’t want you to worry,” my
mother told me over the phone on Friday, September 30, 2013. Immediately I felt
panic and worry rush over me as I tried my hardest not to think of the worse
possible scenario, but that’s all I could think of. That’s me, always worried
that something bad is going to happen to the people I love, always afraid that
one day those who mean the most will no longer be able to hug or kiss me,
because I fear they will be taken away in the worst possible way.
My mother, Francesca D’Anna, as
cliché as this sounds, is the strongest person I know, my idol and the light of
my life. The bond between a mother and daughter can never be compared to any
other relationship. Although I have always felt this way about my mother, I
cannot lie and say that our relationship has always been great, because in all
honesty, it has not been. In our relationship we have had laughs, cries,
dishonesty, truths, extreme hardships and pure happiness. Each of these
emotions has brought on learning experiences, for the both of us.
“Mom, can you just let me talk? I
have things I need to say and you are being so unfair by not listening!”
“I don’t have to do anything you ask
me to because I’m YOUR mother, I tell you what to do and you listen to me, not
the other way around. I don’t care what you have to say!” As I turned to walk
away and began to head upstairs to my bedroom, tears in my eyes, not from
sadness but from such a great deal of anger, I heard my mother stomping behind
me, “Don’t you ever walk away from me while I speak to you, get your shit and
get out!” she yelled, standing two inches away from my face. Then after some
yelling back and forth between the two of us, one voice louder than the other
at every chance we got, my younger sister in tears with a bright red face
feeling fear and sadness as she watched, my father asking my mother over and
over again to stop and take a breath as he picked up the pile of clothes from
my closets that my mother was throwing into garbage bags for me to take with me
wherever I went, and an extreme amount of tears on my end, I actually left.
At the moment of running out of my
house, down the stairs and into my car with only a toothbrush, one pair of
under wear, leggings, a sweater and shoes, because I left too quickly and
angrily to try and grab the “bags” my mother had packed for me, numerous
emotions fell over me the moment I sat in my car, turned the key in the
ignition and took a breath before driving off of onto Morris Avenue. Panic,
regret, anger, sadness, confusion and fear are just a few of those emotions.
“What do I do now,” I thought. About ten minutes later I sat balling my eyes
out in front of a random house where I decided to park my car because the tears
from crying the entire drive were building up so much my eyes began to swell
and I could not even see straight as I drove. That is when I knew I could not go
back to my house, at least not tonight.
I had to call Tommy, my boyfriend, the one person
I knew would come save me and at least make me feel ok the best he could. “It’s
going to be ok, babe,” Tommy continued to repeat. “You can stay with me tonight
or as long as you want/need, but you have to talk to her eventually, you both
love each other too much to let this fight be the end of your relationship,” he
said as he comforted me. “Right now I just want to shower and get into bed, I
can’t even think of going back, I don’t care if I never do! I can make it on my
own.” I responded angrily, knowing deep down inside all I wanted was to be in
my own bed at that very moment.
After spending a night at my boyfriends’ house my
father called me the next morning and asked me to come home and bring my things
back into my bedroom, because my mother had thrown the garbage bags full of
clothes and shoes into our front porch, but for the next few days to keep to
myself and not speak to my mother. So that is exactly what I did. I woke up in
the morning, went to work until 5:00 p.m., school until around 9-10:15 p.m.,
boyfriends’ house for dinner or to get homework done, and especially since he
was the only one who could get a smile out of me, and the only one I felt
comfortable releasing my true sad and scared feelings to, and then home to
sleep and completely isolated myself from my family for about a week.
Walking into my house one night the following week
after class around 9 p.m. I decided, now or never. I walked upstairs into my parents’
bed room and simply said, “Mom, can you come upstairs? I want to talk.” To my
surprise my mother got up and quietly followed me upstairs to my room. “Crap,
where do I even start?” I thought to myself, “Ok just say how you feel, but
remember stay calm, no yelling. When it is her turn to talk, listen, even if
you don’t agree, just let her speak and we will hopefully work through this.”“Ok,
I’ll talk first. Please let me say everything I have to, then you will speak
with no interruptions on how you are feeling and finally we are going to
resolve this one way or another.”
About thirty minutes passed since we
began our talk and I had never felt closer to her than I did in that moment.
“Do you think I wanted you to leave, Alessia?” she asked, “you are my child, I
gave birth to you. There is no one in this world I love more than you and your
sister, everything I do is for you two and when things like this happen, trust
me when I say it, it hurts me so much more than it hurts you.” After sharing my
feelings of the past few days and even reliving past events that occurred in
the house, that had made me unhappy, for once I felt like she truly understood
me as a human, a woman, an adult, not just as her child. And I understood her
as a caring woman and friend, not just my mother. We both sat quietly as the
other spoke and took in every word and compromised on ways to make us both
happy and to fix our relationship to continue to make it better so the extremes
of this argument never happens again. We both were aware that there will be
times when we bud-heads and disagree, but talking through these situations
calmly and with open minds is what will keep us moving forward.
Throughout my growing years,
changing from a child to a pre-teen, to a teen and then into a young adult my
mother and I have had countless arguments, trust me that is not the first. Some
arguments occurred over things I did which she was unhappy about, some over
friends she did not trust but I wanted so badly to have them as a part of my life
as a teen, because lets face it as a teenager you think without friends your
world is over. Other fights happened over boys, some over my younger sister,
and that list can go on.
I am the eldest daughter therefore
being the first child my parents were learning how to be parents since the day
I was born. I was the child they were stricter with as a young girl, the child
who did things first. Got in trouble first, liked boys first, cried over
friends first, got my period first, went through the bitchy teen phase first,
graduated high school first, got a job first and now soon, I will be their
first child to be graduating college.
I remember being in middle school
like it was yesterday. Middle school years are the years you learn how to be a
bit more independent, prepare yourself for high school and try to find out who
you really are. I wanted my mom to let me have more freedom and make my own
decisions, I had no idea what those decisions would be but I just wanted them
to be mine! I was an immature girl who had no idea what real life was like but
because I was an official teen, I thought I could handle anything. I was
invincible, or so I thought.
“Mom, seriously why are you making
me wear this? It’s a red shirt, red pants and black shoes. It’s hideous;
everyone is going to make fun of me!” “No one is going to make fun of you, it
looks good, its picture day and I have the last word so get dressed and get in
the car.” Boy, did I have an attitude that day. I gave my mother an attitude
all day long, when she was just trying to be nice to me and be friendly, but I
was so furious I wanted nothing to do with her.
Throughout middle school more arguments occurred
such as that day and although I never meant to hurt my mother, I can now admit
that I was the biggest bitch at that lousy age and when I think back about it,
I truthfully can’t blame my mom for being strict with me, making me listen to
her, etc. The way she treated me as a younger girl is the reason why she treats
me so differently now.
At the current age of twenty-one, a few days away
from twenty-two, I have matured into a full time worker and student, striving
towards new possibilities and making new memories. I have turned into the woman
I am because of my parents, especially from looking up to my mother and trying
to be even half of the woman she is. The amount of trust my mother has in me
has been built from these arguments, fall outs and repairs. The trust was gone
for a while, a couple of times, but it’s back and better than ever.
A mother-daughter relationship is one of the
hardest relationships to maintain. With any parent-child relationship, it is
often hard for the parent to remember that although their children are THEIR
children, they are still their own individuals. Those individuals must grow,
physically and mentally, they must take on experiences either alone, with the
help of others (family, friends, professors, peers, co-workers, etc.) and
unfortunately sometimes without their parents. Children must find their own
identity, take everything their parents have taught them and create their own
lives.
Just the same, it is difficult for a child,
speaking from experience, to remember and realize that no matter what their
parents are always going to protect them. This may not always be in a literal
sense meaning your mother or father will be there to chase away bullies, write
their children’s 20 page papers for their senior seminars, and speak to managers
when they upset their children at work, or yell at the bank for not approving
their baby for a loan. Protection means emotionally and mentally as well. Your
parents will always have your best interest in mind and at heart. When they
give you advice, whether you like it or not, it is simply because they want you
to be aware of all possibilities in a situation. It is hard for children to
remember that although they may not be kids anymore because they are growing,
they are still their parents’ children. As we grow older, so do our parents.
“Oh my god mom you will never guess what
happened!” “Mom what should I wear out tonight?” “Mom, guess what Tommy did for
me today?” “Mom I don’t feel well please make me feel better, somehow.” “Mom do
you want to go to the mall or watch a movie tonight” “Mom, whats for dinner I
am starving?” “Hey mom, I love you.” My mother is the root of my world. Her
ways of raising me have taught me how to be independent, strong, build
relationships, be a woman, love myself and others, and never to take anyone’s
shit.
“All that I am or hope to be I owe to my angel
mother,” a quote from Abraham Lincoln. Due to past experiences of losing loved
ones and my knowledge that life does not stop for anyone, I know there will a
day, hopefully very far from today, when my mother and I will not be together.
Until then, I plan to spend my days making her happy and proud. Although she
does everything in her world for me, she does not know that everything I do is
for her.
