My mother used to love stories so much, so I'm going to tell you about her in this way . . . On April 25th,1966 . . . Diana Elizabeth Watler was born in a house in Honduras, only her birth wasn't reported until a month later. Over the years she gathered a few different names, answering to Diana, Nani, D, Mommy, Mom, Ma and/or Mother, but sadly some might only remember her as another nameless addict succumb to her personal demons.
While the latter, succumbing to her personal demons, is truly what she did, once upon a time, a very long time ago . . . she was more; She was so much more! She was a daughter who loved and adored her mother, her siblings, and her heritage! She used to tell me, "My mother’s, your grandmother's, hair was so long that she used to sit on it", "Your great grandmother was 100% Mayan Indian", and, "I named you after my mother. I gave you her beautiful name".
She was a big sister, and by that I mean that she was an actual and bonafide SUPERHERO! Always stepping in to save and/or protect her little brother and sister whenever she could, even when they weren't quite so little anymore. If you knew her at all, then you knew that she was a force of nature to reckon with, on both her best and her worst days, but when she became a mother, my mother, for the very first time, that's when she became God Himself! You see, to a child "Mother is God", and to me, as her little girl, that's exactly what she was! She was everything to me! She knew all, she created all, she was all, and her beauty radiated brighter than any god or goddess who had ever come before her, and there would be none greater than her to ever come after! In my eyes this was irrefutable, untouchable fact, and if you didn't do things, and I mean absolutely any/all things, exactly how she did them, then to me you were doing it all wrong!
She was smarter than Einstein, braver than Rosa Parks, more talented than Van Gogh, DaVinci, and Picasso all put together, but most of all, her love, that is the amount of love and the fervor in which she gave it, regardless of the devastating evil that she had been subjected to time and time again, could have easily put Mother Theresa and Gandhi, combined, to shame! She undoubtedly loved all of her children, but sadly we weren't enough to fill the emptiness inside of her. There was a black hole of loneliness, pain, hurt, betrayal, and forced loss of innocence all swirling around within her, and we, her children, could not individually and/or collectively keep it at bay, let alone fill it. As such, our childhoods were all swallowed wholly into her. Into wanting her back, into needing her tender motherly caresses and/or her approval, but mostly into wanting and desperately needing her, our mother's, unconditional love. I suppose the questions stand . . . How was she supposed to give her children something that she herself had never had/felt/known?
How was she not supposed to leave holes in her wake, when she'd been nothing more than a walking husk of emptiness for longer than anyone but she herself actually knew? My mother, my real mother, has been gone for more than 30 years, and my brothers’ and my sister's mother, well, sadly they barely knew the best version of her and my heart breaks for them because of it. My heart breaks because my mother, no, OUR mother, left nothing behind for us to remember her by; Nothing but a big gaping hole of emptiness, despair, longing, and hurt. Shame on you Diana Watler! Damn you mother! You taught me to be better than that, to be stronger than you were, and yet you turned around and completely ignored your own teachings! Dear Mommy,