Mommy Wasn't There - A memoir in progress

Where is the love?

Affection from a mother is important to a child. I only learned that when I saw my childhood friends get hugs and kisses from their parents. As a child, I did make an attempt to get a hug from Jean but there was always an invisible wall around her, which made her affection unattainable.

I do remember the first hug though. It was in the early 80's when we went to Walt Disney World. I don't remember much about the trip but the hug I remember. Her friend Josephine joined us for the trip and we were taking a picture together. "Put your arms around your daughter," Josephine yelled, before pressing the button. I grinned from ear to ear because the wall was finally broken, so I thought. After we said "cheese" the wall went right back up. I didn't understand it. Was it me? Did I do something wrong? Was I a bad child? Was I not worthy of her love? Years after the picture was taken I would flip through the family album and stare at the only hug I ever received from Jean. It was a bitter sweet recollection. Her lack of affection puzzled me because the rest of our family was nothing like her.

Jean had plenty of siblings. By my count I remember meeting three brothers and two sisters. My uncle Lloyd and his wife Vinnet, who lived in Jamaica were super affectionate. Hugs and kisses from the moment I got off of the plane and all throughout the summer until my return back to the states. 

When I would go to Jamaica for the summer I would spend some time in town with uncle Lloyd and a couple of weeks with my grandparents up in the country. Uncle Lloyd would take me and his children up to country in his dumpster truck on Fridays. We would all sit in the back and eat beef patties and have some D&G soda or box juice on those hot summer days. Uncle Lloyd would pick up the country people from town that went to market and charge them for the ride back up to Mt. Prospect. Sister B would be waiting too but she would sit in the front while us kids would eat, sing and play games. Everyone loved to stay at Uncle Lloyd's and from the outside he and aunt Vinnet, were the perfect couple.

Uncle Keith was more of the quiet one in the family. Andrea and Elaine, Uncle Keith's daughters, were sanctified church goers. For some reason I can't remember their mother. But for the most part Andrea and Elaine were the kind of big sisters I always wanted. The only hang up was that they would make me go to these church revivals. Some retreats lasted three days. People getting into the holy ghost, speaking in tongues, and falling out on the floor scared the HOLY SHIT out of me. I couldn't wear shorts or pants when I would stay with them. And church was a must on Sundays. I think I was 10 when their pastor was going over the book of Revelations. For the next couple of years I was in constant panic because I was certain that the stars and the moon were going to turn into blood and fall from the sky and that I would't be going to heaven when judgement day came. Overall, uncle Keith's family was very nice. I later found that uncle Keith was a little too affectionate, but I was old enough to nip that in the bud.

Auntie Blossom was my favorite out of the bunch. I use to wish she was my mother because she was the most nurturing. Unfortunately, I couldn't spend too much time with her because she was suffering from kidney failure. She was on dialysis for years and went through a couple of transplants. When she would visit she would always bring me a pack of peanuts from the plane. Jean use to think it was tacky but I didn't care because she was my favorite aunt. Auntie Blossom would eat ice chips and would ask me to bring a cup full to her. That too would bother Jean, "she's not your slave!" she would yell. But you know what? It didn't bother me because auntie Blossom would always say thank you and treat me like her own child. It's the little things that made me happy.

Auntie Faye and uncle Vernon I didn't meet until my grandfather, uncle Stafford, passed away in the late 80's. We also called him uncle Staffy and he was the nicest man ever. He would sit on the porch and eat his smoked mackerel, drink his Wray & Nephew Overproof rum.  He would tell me how much I looked like Jean and how much he loved me. I never thought I looked like Jean and at times I would wonder if he thought he was looking at her when he told me that he loved me.

From my understanding Jean and uncle Staffy were very close and that he favored her over the rest of his children. Not sure how much truth there is behind that story, because as a parent how can you love one child more than the another.

During the festivities of uncle Staffy's death I met another aunt that my mother didn't want any part of, auntie Daphney. Jean never talked about Dapheny much and I may have heard the name once or twice. Daphney had a few children, Yvonne, Rawle and her youngest Paula. Paula and I were the same age and she lived in the country with our grandparents, while aunt Daphney lived in New York. On my summer visits Paula and I were inseparable. So, inseparable people use to get us mixed up and call me Paula and she Tamika. Heck, I even got confused. I swore one of Paula's school pictures was me. When the family got together to mourn uncle Staffy, Jean saw that I was spending time with Paula and flipped out. I heard Jean and Daphney fighting but I didn't know why. At that time I thought it was just some sibling rivalry that the two would eventually get over. Daphney didn't do anything to me, as a matter of fact she was nothing but nice to me.

All of my aunts and uncles were caring, affectionate, and nurturing. So what happened to their sister Jean? Why was she so resistant to opening up to her own child that she gave birth to?

Mommy had me thinking that I was not worthy of her love and I was so confused.