Memories

Memories are tricky.  We can't always count on them to be truthful.  Our memories can sometimes be versions of the truth we tell ourselves.  We repeat them so often, they become our truth. For over 3 decades, I "remembered" the last time I saw my mom was on May 4th, 1990.  However, we found out 2 years ago that she was murdered on May 2nd.  So, now I assume the last time I saw her was May 1st.  Is it a big deal that I was off by a couple of days? No.  However, it leads to a bigger question, if I was off about one thing, could have been off about other things from my past?

There are so many challenging things about learning about my mom's passing so long ago.  Even though its been almost 2 years since gaining the knowledge of how she passed, I am only now starting to grieve the loss.  I was cheated of grieving for so long, I didn't even know how to begin.  Another challenge is having to reconcile the thought of a mother who abandoned me, when she swore she never would and knowing that she didn't make the choice to leave.  One of my biggest challenges, is that because of the lack of funds to afford the limited technology available, I don't have any videos of my mom.   I have to count on my memory of her to bring her to life in my head.   And memories are tricky.

I can remember my mother's smile.  But then, I have photos of her smile to aide in that memory.  I also inherited that smile and can see it when I look in the mirror.  I can clearly recall her signature whistle.  A sound that immediately brings the same smile to my face now as it did then.  I not only remember her spirit but I feel her spirit.  The love and joy she exuded.  It was vibrant.  However, try as I may, I cannot remember her voice.  I cannot remember the voice of the woman who birthed me.  I cannot remember the melody or tone of the voice of my biggest protector and the one who bathed me in love.  

When my Abuela passed, I often comforted myself with videos I had on my phone.  I could hear her laugh and it would bring back other memories. It was tangible.  I was robbed of that with my mom.  If she had not been taken so long ago, I would be able to comfort myself with videos of her.  But I can't.

It breaks my heart that I don't have the ability to hear her.  When she comes to me in dreams, she is silent.  My desire to hear her is so strong, that my mind has conjured a possibility that there may be a video of her somewhere.  When I was raped in 1987, I remember speaking with detectives in the hospital and eventually going to the precinct to see mugshots with my mom.  Could there be an old, grainy video of one of those sessions?  Is it possible that somewhere there is some video that features her?

Since I was so young when I was raped, I don't recall which precinct my case was out of.  Who can I contact to see if such a video exists?  I called the hospital where I was hospitalized but they don't keep records that long.  However, I realized recently, there is a cold case detective in the NYPD who is investigating her case.  A cold case detective who has agreed to look up my case.

While I am grateful, I am also nervous and scared.  My biggest fear is that there will be no file.  A close second fear is, what if the memories I have about that time are false?  What information could there be in that report that can possibly shed light on my past? Would they have recorded any of my interviews?  I am hopeful and terrified. 

I never thought that in trying to grieve and remember my mom, it would lead on a path to remember me.  For so long, when asked about my past, I would recount the highlights as if reading from a grocery list.  I completely detached from feeling the pain of so many different traumas.  I, innocently, thought that since I had survived my childhood, I could move forward and worry about the future.  When I started this blog, 16 years ago, it was about finding myself.  Never did I think that would mean unravelling what happened before.  But here I am.   I am at a place now where I am ready to confront the pain.  I am ready to challenge my memories of the past in the hopes of finding clarity in the present. 

Thank you for staying on this journey with me.  Thank you for reading and take care.