One year later

One year ago today, I made a decision that would change not only my life but the lives of my loved ones.  After 30+ years of wondering about what happened to my mom, I decided to post in the “Missing People of NYC” page on Facebook, in hopes that someone may be able to provide a clue as to her whereabouts.  After all of that time, I was ready to begin the search.  Little did I know that one post would not only be the beginning but also the end of the search.  I often joke that I was ready to start the search, not end it.  While it is a joke, there is some truth to it.  I was ready to start searching because I had high hopes that I would find my mom in the end.  And I did.

Unfortunately, the speed with which the search came to an end is because my mom had long been taken from this earth.  For over 3 decades, there was a void in my life.  I always wondered where my mom had gone.  Why had she disappeared and left us?  There was anger and sadness and a ton of other emotions.   I had no way of knowing that she hadn’t left us by choice.  11 days shy of her 29th birthday, she was brutally murdered and left unnamed and unknown in a city grave.   

Finding out that there would be no happy ending with hugs, kisses and laughter was heartbreaking and devastating.   I am still trying to make sense of it all.  However, that post and discovery gave her back her name.  It also allowed my family to place her in the same burial plot with her mom.  We would never have to wonder where she is. 

When I used to think about my mom, there was always love but also some pain.  I wouldn’t think of her often because it hurt too much that I didn’t know what had happened to her.  When I think of her now, my first instinct is to push the thought away to avoid the pain of not knowing.  But I am then faced with the pain of knowing why she is not with us.  It is a little jab to the heart every time I remember that she was taken way too soon.  There are still so many questions.  Why was she taken?  Will we ever catch who did it and learn why?  

I am not the same person I was 12 months ago.  I can no longer enjoy the crime shows I used to watch for hours.  I always empathized with the subjects of those shows but it never stopped me from watching.  There was a gruesome intrigue with the crime and the process of identifying the perpetrators.  However, I can’t watch anymore.  It hits a little too close to home.  

Learning that my mom was forced to leave us was an affirmation of a long held belief.  She would have never chosen to leave us.  She loved us with all of her being.  We were loved.  It is a powerful feeling to know that you were loved unconditionally and I know I was.   That love runs through me and pushes me to do better and be better.  I want my mom to be proud of the woman I’ve become. Finding out about her death has made me stronger. 

Although I found out what physically happened to her, I am still searching for my mom.  I clearly hear her unique whistling but search the recesses of my mind to remember her voice or her laugh.  I am searching to find her qualities in me.  I know I inherited her smile but I hope I inherited her heart.  

In the last 365 days, we have continued to tell her story and remember who my mom was.  Neida Esther Monge was an amazing, mom, daughter, sister, friend and woman.  She was a bright light in this world.  She is missed more than I could put into words.  She was and is loved by all those who she left behind.  She will never be forgotten again. 

Thanks for reading and take care.