Away and Back Again

“Go away! I don’t wanna see you again!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face, heading for the gate. I opened it and let it slam, hard, wanting to break everything even remotely connected to her. I strode out, hurt and angry. It was night, the coconut tree outside swayed gently in the wind. I walked out a few steps and could continue no more. This was home, no matter how angry I was, I couldn’t leave it. I cried and screamed to the stillness of the night, not caring if the neighbours heard me. Deep inside, I wanted her to know how much she had hurt me, how angry I felt. I squatted down by the pavement, heaving sobs of anger. Walking out of the house had been a gesture of anger, defiance. I could try heading for grandma’s place, a few blocks away from here. That would scare her.

I waited a few seconds and walked away, certain she would come after me. After all, I was still her daughter. As I was walking away, I heard her call my name. I was triumphant and somewhat relieved. It would have been horrible if she had not come to claim me. I argued with her for awhile, pretending to be reluctant to go home with her. I put on an angry face, not wanting to touch her or anything of hers. She finally coaxed me in, where we had a discussion. Everything turned out alright as we compromised each other’s wishes

That was twenty years ago. I was a rebellious teenager, fighting all the time with my mother. The both of us had strong personalities, each wanting our own way. But as blood is thicker than water, we always made up. Then, I met Rachel. I was always different, or wanting to be different. Other girls had boyfriends, I had girls around me. Punk hairstyles, a boyish swagger and an athletic body were all evidence of my tendency towards masculinity. Being different was what I always wanted. I had questioned myself many, many, times. Who was I? Why was I like this? Inside, I hurt myself badly, tortured myself, that I was abnormal, a freak, alien. I had no hope. Sometimes, I felt like killing myself, yes, that often seemed like a good idea. But somehow, I never did it. Maybe it was cowardice or that I still had obligations to friends and family. But then, when I was at my weakest, close to breaking point, I found a place where I belonged. A website was my salvation, bringing me to know people like me. That was where I met her, Rachel, the cause of my estrangement with my mother.

I did not blame her, my mother. She was a devout Catholic, to which my difference was a sin. Yes, I grew up in that environment, but I did not believe in a God. Hell, I would have to go then, if that was the price you paid. For being different.

This secret I harboured, for as long as I could. It was always a struggle, to put on a mask which would not fit. Only when I knew truly that I wanted to marry Rachel, then only did I reveal my secret. My family was mortified. They banished me, no, she did. Out again I went, like the day twenty years before. This time, she did not follow me. I was left outside. She could love me but I had broken a sacred rule of God. No, we could not live under the same roof while I was still in that state.

This very much distressed me. I loved my family. But how would I go back? Difficult decisions were always there for me to make. If only I knew God then! But I had given Him up. Rachel, poor Rachel. She knew I was suffering, tried hard to alleviate the pain. No one could do that. Not then.

I took a break to rethink my decision. And the whole process of questioning repeated itself again. But this time, I put in the words of my mother. Though we did not get along, in the end, her words always seemed wise. Three long years I took, to rediscover myself. I started asking different questions. Maybe I’m not different? Maybe I was just lonely?

Sadly, even the most patient of lovers have their limit. Rachel had waited long, too long. I couldn’t make her stay. Couldn’t blame her as well. Three years was a long time. I had trouble at work too. It was, awful. A friend, Jacob, he brought me to church. At first, I was reluctant to go. What if people knew? I would turn outcast again. But his church was different. They did not reject me, instead helped me along the way. They prayed for me, and I believed again. Now there was someone out there, caring for me. Someone who would never leave me, regardless of what I did wrong.

I went back to my family, telling them of the good news. But when I got home, she was no longer there. No, where was she when I needed her? No, she had left me, gone to heaven. I couldn’t tell her, of the new change in me. Too late. I had taken too long to come to my senses. I was traumatized. My family members tried to comfort me. They could not. I woke up from my nightmare, just to step into another. Those were dark days in my heart, with a cloud misted over my eyes. I prayed hard, relying on my new found faith to get me through. Finally, I stood up and came out of my dream state. It was time to accept the truth. I could only hope and pray, that God would tell her about me. Mother, I hope you know, how much I love you.