My Mother.

As of late I've been thinking of taking my blog in another direction... I am coming up on my 1 year anniversary and I wanted to make it special for myself. I want to share certain aspects of my life that I don't feel I have in the past. Situations and circumstances that I feel made me into the woman I am today... I want to start with my mother... Her name is Kathy and she is 47 years old.



My mother was born in 1959 to a German mother and Irish father. Her mother immigrated here from Europe and from what I understand she was in a concentration camp during her formative years. I have never met my grandmother and this is due to her abandoning her children when they were very young. My mother is the second oldest. I have an aunt, Annie who is 2 years older than my mom. I also have 3 other aunts and an uncle. Now, here's where it gets complicated. My mother and her sister, Annie are white. However, my aunt Molly and Uncle John, whom my grandmother left behind, are bi-racial like myself. My grandmother was involved with a black man and this was unheard of in those times! I believe she fell in love with this man and that is why she left behind her four children. My grandmother had 2 other children years later. Girls, that are bi-racial.. One named Kelly and the other named Stephanie.. In fact, Kelly was born within weeks of my own birth. I have never met either of the 2. My grandmother packed up and walked away from her family as if they'd never existed. I don't understand how someone could do something so horrible and selfish to innocent children. Soon after my mom's father left as well. Maybe he was overwhelmed at being left with 4 kids, I don't know, but my mom and her siblings were raised by an older couple who was a friend of their family. Now, I've met my grandfather. I can't say I KNOW him well, but I've spent time with him on several holiday's and he's an interesting man. I can't say that I have respect for him. He abandoned my mother too... And I don't believe he's ever apologized for it.


My mother was raised in a very abusive home. She suffered endless physical and mental abuse. She didn't leave until she became pregnant with me. She was 16 and pregant when she ran away with my black father. I don't know much about how my mother and father met, except they went to High School together. I don't really know much about anything concerning my mother and father. I remember when I was younger they fought a lot and my dad was physically and verbally abusive to my mom. She didn't stick around long. In fact, we moved to California when I was 2 and shortly after my mother left him and never looked back. My mother met my step father, Lorenzo when I was 4. My mother had 2 girls by this time. Myself and my younger sister, April who was 2 years old. My biological father was intermittently in our lives at this point and I don't remember anything too positive. My step-father took over his job and 2 years later another sister, Katina was born. Prior to marrying my mother, my step-father was married briefly in High School. He had a daughter named, Tameka who was a year younger than my sister, April. By 1983 we were a full fledged family. My mother was working 2 jobs then. I was the oldest and in charge of myself and my sisters daily functions. I made sure we got to the bus stop ok... And no one ran in the street when we played outside. I fed my baby sitter Katina and she was like my own little daughter..lol As a family, my parents always made sure we did something together on the weekends. I remember my mother making chicken salad and taking us to Santa Monica beach. When you're a child you don't know or realize what life is really about. I had no idea the stress my mother endured being under 25 yrs old with 3 kids plus a step child, 2 jobs, and a family to maintain. All that stress manifested itself into Cancer when my mother was barely 27 years old. Hodgekins Disease was the formal diagnosis. I was 10. My sister and I were sent to Arizona to live with my father and his new wife... They had 3 kids and my baby-sister, Amber was on the way. That was the loneliest time of my childhood and I can recall the memories very vividly as if I were there now. Everything was so Hush hush when it came to my mother's cancer. All we knew was she was "sick". But by me being the oldest, I knew something was desperately wrong. I remember crying at night.. Praying to God, Jesus..Even chanting Namyo Herangae Kyo (something my budist Aunt taught us) anyone or anything that would listen to my heart...I didn't want my mom to die. I was terrified that she was going to die. No one ever sat us children down and explained what the hell was going on.April and I were shipped off to another state, with family who were less than nice. First, there was my step-mother, Lissa (whom I grew to love when I was grown). She was a yeller, like my step-dad. I hated it. It scared me. She cussed a lot too. My mother never cussed, but my father did. I truly believe that is where I got this gfoul mouth I am blessed with today. LOL Then there was my Auntie C..a closet lesbian. I was her favorite..She'd raised me my first year of life. I think she always felt like I Was her daughter.She was the peacemaker in our family and the voice of reason. (Everything will be ok, she said to me once when I was afraid that my mother was going to die.) Then there was my Auntie Debbie.. She abused me in ways that will take a book to explain. She consistently referred to me as a bitch and I took more than my share of beatings from her. I hated her. My grandparents were both there. My grandfather basically ignored me. (April was his favorite) My grandmother, however taught me a lot. She would take my cousins and I out to clean people's homes.. Then she would talk about how filthy they were. Funny thing is, my grandma never liked to be called black... She has that lite skin/dark skin complex. Lastly, my bio-logical father... Who was a full fledged drug addict. I never seen him much when I lived in Arizona. I hated living there. And to some extent, I blamed my mom. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be with my mom. I used to carry around a picture of her and keep it on my desk at school. This was all before I found out my mom was white. When all of our problems started. I just wanted to share some basic info about my mom and our history and set the stage for the next part of my blog...My father has been in prison for the last 8 years. He is scheduled for release in June 2006. I seen him for time when I was 25.. 5 years ago. I have forgiven him. I don't believe my mother has. The next part of this series will be:
Remission.

to be continued.