Now I Know

There are always two sides to a story. One of the sides is yours, the other side is theirs. It is as simple as that.

I remember exactly how I felt as I was getting on that Greyhound to California: I was scared, nervous, and unsure. I remember exactly thinking/ hoping that my mom wouldn’t come just in time to find me; she didn’t. The twenty-three hours spent on that bus were full of  pain knowing that my mom was left behind with only a note from me. During that time I only imagined her reaction but I never dared to measure her pain.

As many times as I’ve told my side of the story here, in this post, I am writing what I finally realized from her story.

Almost two years have passed since that day and I am finally beginning to understand the pain she may have gone through when I left. What got me to this point was a similar situation that made me realize the other side of the story. My mom and I were talking a few weeks ago of when I had ran away. After all this time, we are now finally able to talk about it freely without remorse or making each other feel odd. My mom told me what she had told others to keep my testimony clean. Although I had made the decision to leave and hurt my mom in the deepest most painful ways, she made sure my testimony as a cell group leader was clean.

I can only imagine the tears falling from her face. I can only imagine the thoughts running through her head. I can only imagine the questions she had to put aside because there was no answer. I can only imagine the pain penetrating her heart. She had to be strong and tell others I went on vacation to California. After knowing that I would not return, due to constant asking from others, my mom told them I had found a job in California and decided to stay.

I was a coward for not keeping my word from the note I left her because I knew I didn’t want to hear her cries and questions. I didn’t call her when I arrived to California as I had promised I would. During the weeks after my leaving, there was no communication. She was hurt and I didn’t blame her. We were finally able to talk though it was nothing but negative conversations and endless disagreements. It took a strong woman like my mom to get through such a painful and sour experience in life.

Since then I was more focused on my side of the story than hers. I knew I was hurt, I knew I was tired, I knew I was doing the “right thing”, but I never knew how much she had to go through. My mother is now becoming one of my best friends. I smile as I write this because we have both been through a lot together and away from each other. I have yet to learn more of this amazing woman and am eager to learn how to be strong like her. Though at times we have our quarrels and arguments, I’ve learned that every relationship will have a few bumps in the road before they learn to compromise. I have not covered all there was to her side of the story because I am not her and don’t exactly know what she was feeling. Though now I know just enough to see her side.

Te amo, Mama.