My SuperHero-Part 1 of 3

This is an excerpt from my autobiography which I’m coming back to for a reason. Some incredible things have happened of late, to further strengthen the bond between the two people who delivered me to this lifetime. My parents. In parts 2 and 3, I’ll be sharing my revelations, and why they mean so much. If you’d have told me a decade ago that I’d be calling my folks “my superhero,” likely I’d have blown you off.
 
“The first time I saw her after the diagnosis was made, began like any other day. I made the two hour drive from Toronto to London, pretty happy go lucky. I even remember what I was wearing, because mom had noticed and complimented me.

Doon Drive, was stop number one, home, to greet whomever was there, and to find out the details of where mom was. I hadn’t planned on going with anyone to see her, but my father insisted he come along. That was a bit weird for me, because as far as I could remember, we’d not done anything together in a long time.  You see, I’d been disowned, for running away from home some years before, and for too many years before that, to say that our relationship was turbulent, would be an incredible understatement.
Off we went and unbeknownst to me, what was to happen in the next short while would change my perception of my parents, my family, and my role in it, forever. 

[You may or may not beware of bipolar disorder, but essentially it’s a mental disorder, whereby one experiences periods of being high, then falling really low. It’s incredibly difficult to diagnose, and one can suffer for their whole lives without ever knowing that they can be helped, or diagnosed. By the time mom was diagnosed in 2002, she’d already suffered (at least), the length of my existence, 26 years, bless her soul, and thank the powers that be-God, the Universe, her angels- her final “episode,” was witnessed by our family doctor, and she was admitted. ]


I’d been in or around a mental institution before, as mom had been admitted when I was much younger, but now I was inside, and I felt queasy about it, although I didn’t allow that to show. Having my father next to me was comforting, and I understood why he hadn’t wanted me to go alone. 

There’s not a whole lot I remember about the moment I saw mom, besides the fact that she was pretty drugged up. I don’t know the final episode which landed her in the hospital, as I was still an “outsider,” at the time. I could ask family members, but please understand, it’s just not something I wish to dig up in them. I do hope that one day, the seven of us will be under the same roof, and share our hearts with one another. (It’s been almost a decade since our last reunion). 

There were other patients sharing the room with mom, so dad suggested we go to the (larger), common room. I was happy to oblige, and off we went, at snail’s pace, because mom couldn’t walk any faster. It was in the hallway, outside her room that she complimented me, especially the top I had on-a cute, black, chiffon, peasant top, with bright flowers embroidered down the front, something she or I could have easily made. (I learned her talent as a seamstress from my early days). It meant the world to me that she’d noticed, and said so.  

We entered the common room where there could have been a couple other people, not that it matters. It’s from here that I do remember, as clear as day what happened next. We sat down at the end of a long table, mom in front of me, dad sitting to my right, at the head of the table). We made small chat, and within a short time, mom started to cry. It took everything in me not to lose myself and cry too but I had to be strong for her, I just had to. I put my hands out across the table and told her to squeeze them as hard as she could, that she’d feel better. Continuing to fight my tears back, I turned to my father, only to see him trying to do the same, fighting his own tears. In an instant, I felt as though my heart exploded and repaired itself at the very same time. 

And that was it, that’s when the past died, and they became to me who they are today, my parents, my supporters, my allies, my friends, and my “superhero.” 

Part 2 of 3 to come shortly..


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