I’ve talked a lot about how much I miss my mom. She was one of the strongest people I’ve known and I admire her for raising me on her own, but she wasn’t perfect. One of the things that I’m still angry about is the fact that she never told me who my father was. I know bits and pieces of the story, but not his name.
I’m also incredibly sad that I never got to know who my mom was as a teen and young adult. She just never wanted to talk about it and, again, I have bits and pieces but they don’t give me the whole story. She was so closed off when it came to certain things and I don’t fully know what made her that way.
We never really did any of the “typical” mom-daughter things. She wasn’t the one who taught me how to do makeup; the associate at the Estée Lauder counter did that. We never really talked about dating. We never did a “girls day.” But we had our special things.
I don’t know why I keep thinking about all of this.