Resentment

by Olga Paramo
Lla no llores mija, todo va estar bien, my grandma said to me as I cried in
her lap. I knew she was only saying that to comfort me, as everything couldnt be
fine.
The night became terrible when we received the phone call from the hospital.
My sister hung up the phone, looked at me and said Dont freak out, but that was
daddy, hes at the hospital with mommy and they dont know whats wrong, I stared
at her wide eyed, while goose bumps appeared on my arms. After the phone call, my
grandparents rushed over the house to look after my sister and I. My grandma was
trying to comfort me as I became a bit hysterical. After five minutes, I walked away
from her comforting embrace because I knew I did not deserve any sort of comfort.
As I walked up the stairs, I thought of the way I badly treated someone who
was trying to be a part of my life as much as she can. First step, I never called when I
got home. Second step, I yelled and constantly threw tantrums. Third and fourth step,
I never said I love you back nor ever hug her. Fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth step, I
always told her I hated her and treated her like crap. The list went on and on until I
reached the sixteenth step, right then I knew I was a horrible daughter and didnt
deserve a mother who always tried her best for me.
That night I fell asleep wondering how our relationship got this way. First day
of preschool, my grandma was the one to see me off. Mothers day show, I sang to my
grandmother and gave her a rose while the other kids gave the roses to their mom.
Weekends she went to work from 8 am to 11 pm while I was being looked after by my
grandparents. First day of kindergarten, I was alone watching all the other kids with
their parents. I knew it wasnt her fault that she had to work a lot but I wanted her to
be involved in my life like how she was with my older sister.
When morning came, I got dressed to go visit my mom in the hospital. As we
drove to Silver Cross, I became anxious. We walked in through the revolving doors and
followed my dad to the elevator. The whole time I just stared at the floor because I
knew if I looked at any of my family members I would start to cry again. Once the
elevator stopped at the third floor, we walked to my mothers room and waited
outside as she was getting her test results. I didnt know what to think what was
wrong; I didnt even imagine my mom to ever get sick. When the doctor finally
walked out of her room, we were allowed in. My grandparents, sister and father all
rushed to her side while I stood in the back of the room just watching her. Her skin
sickly pale, hair all tangled and weak.
My sister kept on asking her what the doctor said was wrong with her, but my
mom just gave her a weak smile and said, Estoy bien mija. I knew she was hiding
something, an important detail that only she and my dad knew. My mom and dad
were whispering for a while, I only was able to hear the words la presion
arterial...anemia...artritis and CAT scan. I didnt know what it any of those words
meant, as I am not highly advanced in Spanish nor did I know what they had to do
with my mom. She finally looked up at me and gestured to me to go over by her bed.
As I got closer, I didnt know if I would be able to keep my
emotions hidden any longer. When finally at her side, I broke down and crawled into

bed with her. My grandma explained to my mom about how scared I was the night
before. Estaba llorando toda la noche, as that was being said, I tilted my head up
close to her ear and whispered, Im sorry. I knew she understood what I was sorry
about as she just nodded her head at me and kept the conversation flowing with the
family.
That day I knew I had to get over the anger I had towards my mother. I knew if
I wanted to have a great relationship with her that I should start right then because
later might be too late. I never really found out what is wrong with my mother as she
still goes to the doctor but never tells me why. I know shes keeping the information
from my sister and I, as she doesnt want to worry us. What I did learn was to never
hold on to my anger nor treat others badly as that might be the last way I treat them
and Id never be able to forgive myself. My relationship with my mom has recovered
since then. She still works late, but takes Sunday off for a family day. I no longer
throw tantrums nor am I horrible as I use to be. Our relationship stands where we can
make fun of each other and not be mad at each other longer than a day. Her health
still puzzles me, but I have come to terms that there is a reason for her not telling me
what is really going on.