NYE has always been bittersweet for me – especially since I haven’t spent them with my mother since 2009. In 1980, my mother was attacked on New Year’s – she was raped, stabbed and left for dead on the side of the road. Being the warrior that she is, she pulled herself up, naked and bleeding, and managed to flag down a car. The couple covered her up and rushed her to hospital. There she was given a blood transfusion – from which she contracted Hepatitis C (and by the time she was diagnosed in 1999, it was too late for treatment – she already had cirrhosis of the liver).
Nearly 37 years later, the Hep C destroyed her liver and she died of cirrhosis. My mother had always been a warrior. This is a woman who escaped an abusive husband and lived in her car, who had a to be fed through a straw when a boyfriend broke her jaw, who had been misused, abused, and taken advantage of. This is a woman who was desperate to love and be loved. Thus when she was 28 and found out she was pregnant, she decided she’d go it alone because finally she had someone to love – and who would love her back.
My mother was always honest with me about the rape and abuses she survived. She had tried to lose herself in drugs and sex, but then she found herself when she had me. I am forged from all of her pain and suffering and love – and although I am stronger because of her pain, I will let her trauma die with her. Her love, however, will always live on in me – and I will pass on this love to her future grandchildren.by