Just let go

When I was a kid, my parents were my everything. When I looked up into their faces I saw perfection. They were the epitome of safety and love. When I was in their arms, nothing could harm me because I knew they loved and cared about me more than anything else and we all loved each other. That was enough to topple anything that could come our way. They were flawless. Sometimes they wouldn’t let me do the things I wanted, like eat ice cream for dinner but they would tell me that if I did, I wouldn’t get bigger. Of course that stopped me from asking that again. What I wanted most in the world was to be big and I knew anything they said would be true.

For a child, parents are humans, yes, but what are humans at that age? They are the roles they play. There is nothing deeper, there are no layers. They are what they appear to be. The mailman delivers mail, the ice cream man sells ice cream, the neighbor is a mean person because she’s always yelling. Mom and dad are perfect because they love me and smile at me and provide me with all the nurture and care I need.

So it is particularly shocking to wake up one day and realise that your parents are flawed. They’re not perfect, they don’t always know what’s best for you or even for themselves. They make mistakes. They’re humans after all, the real definition of human, as one learns with time. 

I was twelve years old when I realised that the image I had of them was a mirage and that most of the time they wore masks that hid how they truly felt. They thought I didn’t notice that they would sometimes sleep in different beds or that they’d cut their conversations short when I walked into the room or that they’d plaster on fake smiles when they said good morning, even though I could see sadness in my mother’s face and something else I didn’t know in my dad’s. They had secrets and I didn’t like it. Maybe they did it to protect me, but suddenly I felt that I was constantly being lied to and that I didn’t know who these people were. 

That made me angry and taciturn. In turn, my parents blamed each other and they no longer fought in secret. The yelling and the hate was all out in the open and most nights I had to cover my head with the pillow to drown out their arguments. “See what you’re doing to our daughter?” Screamed my mom. “Me? It’s all your fault!” yelled my dad in return. 

Everyday it was something different but it was also the same. And I didn’t know what they fought about, I just knew they didn’t love each other anymore, and I didn’t know when it started. Was the love I felt when I was a child fake? Was I imagining it? I truly believe that they loved each other once. I just didn’t know when it stopped. 

One day I heard my mom sobbing quietly in the bedroom. My dad was at work. I had just come home from school and was on my way to my bedroom which was located right after my parents’. I knocked on the slightly open door and although she didn’t answer, my mom’s crying stopped so I knew she had heard me. I opened the door, “mom?” I asked with concern. She wiped her eyes with her back turned to me, “yes dear?” she responded turning to face me with her fake smile. That’s when I saw her black eye. “What happened mom?” I asked, shocked. I threw my bag on the floor and sat next to her. “Nothing dear,” answered my mom quickly, “I was walking by the park and someone’s ball happened to come flying at my eye. Great luck, huh?” I looked at the floor. I had been hearing some racket coming from their bedroom. Sometimes it sounded like someone was being hit but I didn’t think there was any kind of physical violence happening, even when I heard my mother scream. I didn’t think it was possible. I suddenly felt very angry, “you’re lying,” I said, the tears falling out of my eyes. “Sydney!” Was my mom’s only response, her eyes wide in surprise. I had never challenged my parents before and I had definitely never called my mom a liar. I was quiet most of the time and tried to ignore what was around me. “This is no way to talk to your mother, young lady.” “If the shoe fits,” was my only response. I didn’t see it coming. I only felt the sudden impact of her palm against my cheek. I wanted to cry but somehow that gave me strength. My eyes were watery but I didn’t let a single tear fall. I stood up defiantly. “You may think that I’m still a child but I’m not a child anymore. I know things now. I see things. I know everything. Is nobody going to say it? You and dad don’t love each other anymore! I hear you every night.” I screamed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” cried my mother. “Yes I do, I see it in your faces every time I walk in the room. You think I’m stupid? I hate you both. Just divorce already. You’re nothing but liars and we’re no longer a family.” I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore and I let them go completely. 

“Honey, come here, sit down.” She put her hand on mine and I let her. I couldn’t remember the last time she held my hand. “Your dad and I do love each other. We’re just going through a rough patch.” “Rough patch?” I said through tears, “mom it’s been years. Nothing’s going to change.” She put her hand on her chest. “I hadn’t realised it’s been this long.” She looked at me as if noticing me for the first time. “Look how big you’ve gotten,” she said, pushing a loose strand behind my ear. That just made me cry harder. “And you’re so smart and observant,” she added, smiling sadly. “I’m so sorry Sydney. I’ve been selfish and I thought what I was doing was for the best. I thought I was doing it for you.” she cried, “I guess I was just afraid of being alone.” “Are you fighting because he hits you?” “No, no honey,” she chuckled, “he doesn’t hit me. I told you what happened already.” “I thought you made that up. I hear you sometimes, at night..”. “Oh nooo no honey not at all. Noone is getting hit. I sometimes get a little bit angry, I may throw things and sometimes your dad gets the same. I know it’s not okay, but this is what happens. Sometimes, people get to a point where they don’t know how to communicate anymore and they lose all sense. I think your dad and I have reached a point where we can’t resolve our issues anymore. I keep trying to hold on and he wants me to let go and we can’t reach a common ground anymore.” she looked at me sadly, but for the first time in years, I saw her genuinely smile. It wasn’t a fake one. “I think it’s time for me to let go.” I wiped away a tear, “You and dad will be happy again?” “Yes we will baby,” she said, kissing my forehead, “your dad and I will be happy again.”