by Mark Condon
It was December 25, 2004, a beautiful Christmas day here in Canada.
I was 9 years old at the time, and my parents had just been recently separated awaiting the divorce papers.
My father is a black and white beef farmer who would beat the daylights out of me (all of my siblings but mostly me because I always stood against his way) and my mother had been staying with him only for our sakes.
She finally had the grounding and the courage to do it, good for her – if only it lasted.
I was a violent child as I grew up with fighting all the time (I wouldn’t hurt a fly now) and was short tempered, ruthless and simple minded. A pretty crazy kid all and all.
Well, come Christmas and my siblings and I were at my mother’s to celebrate, and I had been talking about Pokemon Fire Red for game-boy for months, so I knew mom got it for me.
We are opening up presents and I get down to the last one hoping that it is inside, and to my surprise it wasn’t.
In a short bout I became so infuriated that I started yelling at my mother and crying and screaming…
I ended up telling her that “I wish you were dead!” and meanwhile after being sent to my room I vividly remember praying to God that he would take her away.
I never prayed on my own so this sticks out a lot in my mind.
The horror to it all is that on the 28th, just 3 days later, on her way home from work a car slipped on the icy roads and killed her instantly.
My mind has repressed every memory of her (and my whole life from before I was 9) except that one horrific incident on the last day that I ever saw her. The most vivid recollection I’ll ever have.
To add salt to the wound she did get me the Pokemom game but had hid it behind one of my brother’s gifts.
Do me a favor now, if you have one, call your mother and tell her you love her.
And if you don’t, you just keep on doing what you’re doing to live on with her spirit embedded in your mind and heart.
Peace and love to you all and Happy New Year!