Mother’s Day

Another Mother’s Day come and gone.

No flowers this time around. Instead, I called Mom up and spent some time talking on the phone. I tried to tell her that she did a wonderful job raising me. I tried to say that she shouldn’t think she failed as a parent because her son is gay and HIV+. I’m not sure if I was successful in that regard.

I tried to impress upon her that life is not a competition. It shouldn’t matter what you end up doing or where you’re going so long as you’re happy, so long as you’re a good person or at least try to live a good life. And since my mother is one of nine children on Antonia’s side of the family, I have a million cousins. I have so many cousins, it’s not funny. I bet even the dust bunnies in my apartment have cousins. Most of my cousins are married and most have or plan on having kids.

My mom once lamented to me that she was looking forward to being a grandmother. Well, that’s not going to happen. I seriously doubt I’ll adopt, or that I’ll meet a partner who will want the same thing.

She should cease comparing my life with everyone else. It really doesn’t amount to a hill of beans. I can only focus on now and what might come after. I can’t spend all of my life worrying about the past. Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve. That path doesn’t lead anywhere. Life happens; you move on. I may think of the choices I’ve made and the things I’ve done, and perhaps as I grow older I’ll be more contemplative. I have so much to live for and so much more that I’d like to do. I know which direction my eyes face. I choose to live.

My mother refuses to accept the notion that a man can love another man and still have a loving relationship. She says it’s not natural. She uses the word “homosexual” without thinking that the word causes pain. She says I can say ‘gay’ but she’ll continue to use ‘homosexual’. Sometimes I wonder if I’m speaking to my mother and not a homophobe.

Another Mother’s Day come and gone. I don’t know if we’ll ever see eye to eye on most things. We have a complicated relationship. We’re still talking, and perhaps that’s what counts.