As a child, I believed that I had a happy family in which everyone loved each other.
Most of my fond memories are associated with my dad: we often went to the city together, rode bicycles, he taught me music, I always asked him many questions, he always answered. He played the piano on all my holidays. On the contrary, I have few memories associated with my mother.
When I was ten years old, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. He died a few months later. I have lost a loved one and a person that was close to me.
Less than a month later, my older sister left parent home to study in another city, and my mother and I were left alone. Mom started to feel very depressed. I spent all the time at home with her. We seemed to have reversed roles: I took care of my mother, instead of her doing that for me. Suddenly I felt like a grown up.
A few years after the death of my father, another man appeared in our family. I didn’t want to believe it. I thought that dad was the only one for mom. And that their unrealistically strong love will carry them through their whole lives. I perceived this as a betrayal and felt a huge resentment. I haven’t spoken to my mother for several days, but those days seemed like eternity to me.
After many years, I realized that my mother never loved me the way I wanted. Probably, she felt another, “her own” love to me.
Such a love that I do not understand and do not feel until now. I expected her support, consolation in my childhood problems, heart-to-heart talks or just hanging out together. Instead, I constantly listened her stories and supported her throughout life. I lived my own experiences myself and never felt my mother’s shoulder.
I still miss my dad, his attention, care and our communication.
So what is love? Give or take? Support or forgive? Betray or live on? I am still looking for answers to these questions.