My Mother - Survivor of All Things

My mother, the survivor of all things domestic violence, mental abuse....Her name is supposed to mean "happiness," but the only happiness she has experienced in her life has been watching my sister and I become independent women who don't have to rely on their husbands and suffer in their hands as she did with my father. Although I have suffered a good amount in life, I still managed to become the woman that my mom wanted me to be. She used to say, "Go to school, finish your degree, and if I don't live long enough, bring your degree to my grave so I can lay peacefully." Both my sister and I did that, and fortunately, she has lived to see her daughters strive and thrive. It has taken me much longer than my sister due to the struggles I have been through, but here I am.

There are so many words that I can describe my mother, but the most pressing one in my head is "perseverance." Because of her perseverance and dedication, my sister and I have become strong individuals, and my brother, not so much. I really had a hard time understanding why Leyla was always worried about the abuser of her daughters until I had my own child and went through five years of agony during her teenage years. Those years were not your typical teenage daughter rebelling; it was embellished with drugs, rape, 911 calls, and hospitalizations. I was tested with her life several times due to the struggles she went through. Being tested with your child's life and well-being is one of the most heart-wrenching events that any parent can experience. So, I stopped blaming Leyla.

My mother was born into a family of the oldest out of eight children. My maternal grandmother lost four children: a set of twins and two boys who passed away before the age of seven, before my mom decided to hold on to life and stay.

My mother's family was somewhere in the middle of the poor and middle class. They had their own livestock, and my grandfather was employed as a hodja in the mosque. He was a religious man. Therefore, my mother was made to quit school when she was nine despite all thegging to continue pleading and be her education. Why would she have needed education? Her job was to learn to be obedient, excel in her womanly duties, and produce offsprings. Lack of education has been a gushing wound in my mother's heart.

At the young and delicate age of 17, my mother was offered to my father. One day, my paternal grandmother came across my mom while visiting a relative in their small town. She was taken by my mother's green eyes, beauty, and delicate stature. She decided that my mother would be a great match for Ahmet and produce beautiful children.

The first time my mother saw my dad's face was during their engagement, and the second time was the day they got married. I can only imagine how scared she was. Her whole life was changing, and she had no say in it. They moved into Ahmet's parents' home; remember, Ahmet was still poor and was not lost in his gambling, woman, and alcohol addiction yet. It comes after we moved to the big city, after Zeki's will (In "my father" blog). Ahmet was a difficult man, and beatings were a common scene in our household. On the days when Leyla was not the direct target of the punches, she definitely got her fair share while trying to protect her daughters. I think that is how my brother got so good at beating my sister and I well into our 20s. The only reason he can't put his hands on us anymore is because both my sister and I got married and moved to the States, but it is a story for another day.

My mother has always been one of my lifelines and my biggest supporter. There is no definition of a word that I can use to express how much I love my sultana. I can't describe her beauty...her beautiful green eyes with golden specks, her cute curls, but mostly her scent. It may be all in my head, but she has such a unique scent, and her scent is a mixture of comfort and love. I still find comfort and immense love when I bury my head into the nape of her neck and inhale all those pure feelings deep into my soul, and she giggles...