Way Back Wednesday-Feb 8th, 1984

It's Wednesday's again which means it's time for Way Back Wednesday, brought to us by (the psychic?) MamaDuck over at The Kept Woman. This weeks theme is:
Gone but not forgotten...a more serious tone this week as we share our pictures of ourselves with loved ones we've lost (either through death or lost touch with over the years)

I've lost many people over the years, and although I would like to include them here, I can't. Today is reserved for one person in particular and has been for the past 22 years.

Twenty-two years ago to the day, on Feb 8th, 1984 (also a Wednesday) I lost my mother, Susan Rice.



I've been struggling over what to actually write here. How much to tell. How much not to tell. How to explain. How to defend her. Then I decided, the hell with it, I'll just stick to the facts ;)

I lived with my mother up until age seven, when I was taken away and put into foster care (with her step-sister and husband). My mother suffered from a disease that unfortunately touches too many of us. She was an alcoholic. For two years we lived in limbo. I thought I was going back to her. She refused to give me up. When I was nine she finally did give me up, and I was adopted by her step-sister. From age nine to age twelve I only saw her twice. Once, by accident in my grandparents yard. She said "Hi, Hope". I said "Hi". And then the grown ups rushed out to take me away. The second time she was in a coma, and had hair, on only one side of her head. That was the last time I saw her and she died just after I turned 12, when she was taken off life support.

I didn't have any photos of her and I together until recently so I'm posting all that I have. In this first one you can't see me, but I'm there ;) This was taken in Florida back in 1971 when she was pregnant with me.



Here, I was about a month old and she was 20. I love this picture because I am staring right at her. I probably knew her better at that very moment than I did at any other point in our lives.



In this one I'm about a year old. It was around Valentine's Day. I'm not sure if I know this because I remember, or someone told me.



This one is my favorite of them all, and as you can see it's also in the worst shape. Someone had it tacked up somewhere so there are tiny thumbtack holes all over. I'm guessing I was about 2 1/2 because it was taken in Massachusetts and she's wearing shorts ;) I love this picture because of how I'm looking at her. I remember looking at her like this. I remember staring at her and thinking she was the most beautiful woman in the world. This is the way my son looks at me.



Summer again, so I think I'm about 3 1/2 here.



And those are all I have. I wish I had more, although maybe it's better that I don't. When my aunt sent these to me after my son was born, it was like a dream come true. I'd been waiting so many years for them. I couldn't even open them up at first. I had to wait, for the perfect time. The perfect moment. I thought that, somehow, they would give me answers or fill the void. They didn't. They only left me more questions and a larger void. Pictures make your past real somehow. Like you're seeing it all over again. I don't know. I am glad I have them though.

The only time I'm not afraid of dying, myself, is when I try to believe that I will get to see her again someday. But I'm not really sure I believe that.

When I was a child I hurt for me. Now that I am a mother I hurt even more for her. She used to say our song was Me and You Against the World by Helen Reddy.

I love you Mommy.
I love you too, Baby.