I always felt like I was grown in a lab. In elementary school, I managed to avoid talking about my parents with other students. I went over to some friends’ houses and always felt so out of place as if I was intruding on some sacred event. I would watch my friends hug or get kisses from their mothers and I would feel… off. I was too young to understand why I felt “off”. Come middle school, I began to realize what was so different. My friends called their parents “Mom” and “Dad”, or “Mama” or “Daddy”. I called my parents by their names. My friends hugged their parents every day and spent family time on weekends. My family didn’t really touch, and I’d spend the weekends reading in my room. I began to make more friends and whenever I went to their homes, their families would instinctively try to make me feel welcome as possible. Maybe parents have a sixth sense about other kids feeling lonely. I hated it. I hated the pity, and I didn’t know how to cope with that kind of attention.
The words happened on February 23rd, 2020. There’s a lot of backstories that needs to happen. My mother went into the hospital for a simple surgery on February 7th, 2019. Her surgery was botched. Fast forward to February 11th, she is in the ICU. She was in the ICU for several months and was put on life support. In October 2019 she got taken off. She wasn’t ever put back on it. Fast forward to when the words happen, about 9 AM. My mom isn’t doing well and she can barely talk. After about 2 hours it’s time to leave the hospital. I ask for a moment alone with her. She told me she saw the pride bracelet that I was hiding from my family in my pocket. She knew I was gay, and she told me that it was alright. I was in a hot protective gown and a mask so she couldn’t see me crying very much. She told me that she would see me again one day. At this point I’m audibly crying because she knows she isn’t going to make it. She passed away the next day after having a seizure. I still wonder to this day how she knew she wasn’t going to make it.