Complex Mothering

In your womb I had (gone), the love of an Indian tradition and you you were the wife of the man who represented a multitude of nations. Was between two intersections, including two women who gave me life, but I felt that I loved them both equally, because I loved too much. Although only in those few opportunities could feel the love and resignation for me. How not to remember my brother. It ran from me. At that time there is a huge difference, because my clothes denoting a standard of living and status, my mother and my brother does not bore. MY mother was very proud with his gaze in front of my grandmother.

That woman who remove their first child to raise as tradition dictated what the ancestors of our nations. But in his eyes betrayed the hope of seeing me after not having been in almost all these 12 years I lived with my grandmother as her son. Although there was chasing my brother to meet him, I felt at that moment I was not alone, I had the opportunity to share. This happiness I only lasted a few more than two months, I would know when my grandmother came from school to school rush. I did not understand why she came, never used to, because my godfather and godmother were always cared for my performance at school and my training. Until then I had dreamed of having my brother in the house, I knew my mother could not, for he was already married to another man, having mourned my father about five years as mandated by the tradition of our peoples. Believing that he had kept the memory of my father, decided to rebuild their lives safely, where that commitment I have two brothers. But they do not keep hardly any feeling, perhaps for what his father represented for my life.

Then my grandmother told me straight: I asked permission from school. I replied: For Mother?. She replied: Your mother is dead. At that moment the world collapsed in my fantasies had built. It only remains to me the taste of his eyes, the warmth of her hands on my teenage face, which I so rarely prodigal. I’m sorry and I always have felt many times in the solitude of my affliction and still more hoarse voice saying Johnny who sowed in me the purest feelings to his memory. But to hear the manner and circumstances of his death the hatred of the man who was his second commitment, was the hatred that fueled my whole life, since I take my mother. With us also saw when I was already father and I felt sorry for the storm of his soul where he lived. I learned to forgive even though he was the cause of her death.