I really don't know exactly how to say this but here goes. I've never spoken about this in public nor have I given my testimony about this. My mother forgot me. I mean this literally.
It started for me personally when I was around 6 years old and my Mom was admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I didn't fully understand. I just knew that Mom was in the hospital and kind people from our church were bringing food to our house. She came home and she was some better, but it wasn't long before she was admitted again only this time she would be completely different when she returned.
I'll never forget the little doll she made for me while hospitalized. When Mom returned this time I noticed that she was very quiet. She would look at things I had owned for years and ask me where I got it. She pulled my sweater out of the closet while we were getting ready for church and ask me where it came from. I remember telling her that her friend had made it for me.
She looked at me differently and I felt a strangeness in her eyes. I couldn't put my finger on it but it troubled me. I was too young to understand the magnitude of what they had done to her in the institution but I knew Mom was not the same.
Latter in life I found out that they had given her shock treatments. How horrible it must have been for her. My heart breaks just thinking about it. But what's even more horrifying is that it erased part of her memory. She no long remember her family. Dad had to tell the mother of his three children who we were. She didn't even know Dad.
The strangeness I felt was because I was a stranger to my own Mother. The disconnect I felt was real. The sad thing was that even though they erased part of her memory she was still mentally ill. How had they helped her? What did they accomplish? Nothing.
My brother was 12 years old so he remembers Dad introducing him to his own Mother. It had to be done though. My Dad was the spiritual leader in our home and raised us in church. We leaned heavily on God's tender mercy during this time. My Dad never let us see his pain. He was our constant when things were so stressful.
Being a young child I didn't fully grasp what was taking place but I knew I loved my Momma with all my heart and that she was somewhere behind those confused eyes wanting to come back. She eventually learned to love us again and she took her place in our family. It just took time and a lot of prayer for things to come to a new normal for the Brandon's.
I remember while she was hospitalized one Christmas I had to sing in a play at school. The teacher told us that we all had to wear a white blouse and red skirt. Well, I didn't have one and there was no one there to tell that I needed help. I did sing but it was in a old blue dress. I stuck out but it wasn't for my singing voice. I remember feeling so embarrassed. Well, the next year Momma was home. The next December I told her what I needed to wear for that years program and she took me to the nicest store in town and bought me the prettiest puffy sleeved blouse I have ever seen. She also got me a pretty red skirt. I had never been so proud of my Mom in my life as I stood on that stage and sung my heart out in my new black patent leather shoes.
Even though she struggled the rest of her life she did the best job she could possibly do to raise us and follow Dad's lead. We became very close. She was my biggest fan and supporter. I loved my Mom so much. She passed away of cancer when I was 30 years old. Suddenly the phone stopped ringing. I found that my birthdays didn't really mean much to anyone. Holidays were missing someone. Life in general had changed because Mom was gone again, but this time she wouldn't be coming back. But the story doesn't end there.
Mom knew Christ as her Savior and Lord. God's loving grace set Mom free and I'll be seeing Mom again some day in glory. Cherish the time you have with your parents. There is nothing like a mother's love. Because of Jesus, Mom and I will be reunited for the last time in Heaven and she'll know me forever. I'll eternally be thankful for new love from the ashes of a Mother's forgotten love.
It started for me personally when I was around 6 years old and my Mom was admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I didn't fully understand. I just knew that Mom was in the hospital and kind people from our church were bringing food to our house. She came home and she was some better, but it wasn't long before she was admitted again only this time she would be completely different when she returned.
I'll never forget the little doll she made for me while hospitalized. When Mom returned this time I noticed that she was very quiet. She would look at things I had owned for years and ask me where I got it. She pulled my sweater out of the closet while we were getting ready for church and ask me where it came from. I remember telling her that her friend had made it for me.
She looked at me differently and I felt a strangeness in her eyes. I couldn't put my finger on it but it troubled me. I was too young to understand the magnitude of what they had done to her in the institution but I knew Mom was not the same.
Latter in life I found out that they had given her shock treatments. How horrible it must have been for her. My heart breaks just thinking about it. But what's even more horrifying is that it erased part of her memory. She no long remember her family. Dad had to tell the mother of his three children who we were. She didn't even know Dad.
The strangeness I felt was because I was a stranger to my own Mother. The disconnect I felt was real. The sad thing was that even though they erased part of her memory she was still mentally ill. How had they helped her? What did they accomplish? Nothing.
My brother was 12 years old so he remembers Dad introducing him to his own Mother. It had to be done though. My Dad was the spiritual leader in our home and raised us in church. We leaned heavily on God's tender mercy during this time. My Dad never let us see his pain. He was our constant when things were so stressful.
Being a young child I didn't fully grasp what was taking place but I knew I loved my Momma with all my heart and that she was somewhere behind those confused eyes wanting to come back. She eventually learned to love us again and she took her place in our family. It just took time and a lot of prayer for things to come to a new normal for the Brandon's.
I remember while she was hospitalized one Christmas I had to sing in a play at school. The teacher told us that we all had to wear a white blouse and red skirt. Well, I didn't have one and there was no one there to tell that I needed help. I did sing but it was in a old blue dress. I stuck out but it wasn't for my singing voice. I remember feeling so embarrassed. Well, the next year Momma was home. The next December I told her what I needed to wear for that years program and she took me to the nicest store in town and bought me the prettiest puffy sleeved blouse I have ever seen. She also got me a pretty red skirt. I had never been so proud of my Mom in my life as I stood on that stage and sung my heart out in my new black patent leather shoes.
Even though she struggled the rest of her life she did the best job she could possibly do to raise us and follow Dad's lead. We became very close. She was my biggest fan and supporter. I loved my Mom so much. She passed away of cancer when I was 30 years old. Suddenly the phone stopped ringing. I found that my birthdays didn't really mean much to anyone. Holidays were missing someone. Life in general had changed because Mom was gone again, but this time she wouldn't be coming back. But the story doesn't end there.
Mom knew Christ as her Savior and Lord. God's loving grace set Mom free and I'll be seeing Mom again some day in glory. Cherish the time you have with your parents. There is nothing like a mother's love. Because of Jesus, Mom and I will be reunited for the last time in Heaven and she'll know me forever. I'll eternally be thankful for new love from the ashes of a Mother's forgotten love.
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