Life Improvement Tips For The Wise Few

A story of faith and the love for my Mom, the never ending love and the bond we shared as mother and daughter and as close friends. I don’t think I could have asked for a better Mom.

I was born in Holland, and came to the Island of St. Maarten when I was very young. My Mom and Dad, decided to make St. Maarten their home, and I must admit that I honestly loved the green hills and the blue beaches with white sand. Unknowing that this would be my home for many years and many tears.

I really had a great life, playing with my Dad, he was always there for me, but I never honestly got to know him very well. At the age of 3 years, my daddy fell ill, and for some reason or the other and never recovered form his illness. He died, and my Mom told me that he has departed into Heaven to be amongst the Angels, because the Lord has better plans for him.

That day, I cried so much I just honestly couldn’t understand why my Dad loved me so much and would leave me at such a young age.

My Mom was my all, she made me feel great and made me to understand that these things happens and that she would always be there for me. That made me feel safe and warm, and I really took to my Mom, she was my all. We had it rough, we moved back to Holland for a couple months and then came back to St. Maarten. We stayed with my granny, my Mom’s mother.

I was a very busy and active little girl, and a very bright child as well, if I may add. I took to swimming like no one had ever seen. Was very good at it. Won many medals and traveled with the swim team to many different places. It was fun, and some days my Mom would also go along with me.

As time went by, me and my Mom were like best friends. The trust and bond we shared was like no other. I told her many things that was happening in my life. Some of the “little bad things” I withheld. They were few, and not so bad, if I may say so myself.

My Mom fell ill, and she got a throat infection, a really severe throat infection. It was really tough on her, she could hardly eat anything, I witnessed how much pain she endured and watched as she planned what to do next. She got in contact with some specialist in Holland and told me that she would go to Holland and do an operation on her throat.

She organized everything, and packed for that day, I cried, but I told her that she would get better, so I was not worried. I couldn’t go along because I was in my fifth class of elementary school, and my Mom puts school first and everything else after.

I was really worried, but didn’t want to show my Mom how worried I was, but I stayed cool.

It was then that she asked this gentleman by the name of Alex to pick me up and drop me home from school. He had a son Alexander Junior, Imani (both were also attending our school) and Iovana. They were really nice to me. On Fridays, he would take us all to Burger King or Mc. Donalds. It did make me miss having my own papa around. I know I would have had lots of fun with him, he was really a nice person… sigh.. sigh… Just thinking of him made me a little sad…

I promised my Mom I would not think of him until I began to cry or became depressed, so I won’t.

The days started to creep. I had a calender and I would mark off each day, counting down the days of my mother’s return. She did call me nearly each day that she was away. It was only the days after the operation that she didn’t call, because she couldn’t speak.

It really made me sad, seeing how much weight my Mom was loosing due to the problem she was having with her throat. But, I pray that all will be well when she gets back home and that she will gain back the weight and that the pain would all go away.

The two weeks went by fast, and I couldn’t wait to see my Mom. I went to the airport to get her with Granny. We were so happy to see her and all was nice again. She was looking so beautiful and she was talking a little funny, but she told me all was OK.

As we jumped in the car, she and granny was talking about her experience in Holland and the operation. It was at that moment that she told Granny that she saw many opportunities in Holland where she can grow and go back to school while working.

I was not too happy with that decision, because all my friends was here in St. Maarten, but before the school year ended and without notice, we were packing and heading to Holland.

I said good bye to all my friends, and a couple tear drops fell. I also said goodbye to Alex, Imani, IO, their Mother and father. It was a very sad moment in my life. Because I really liked St. Maarten and all my friends. We packed up, gave granny some big hugs and kisses and she dropped us to the airport.

The flight was really long, and a very sad one if you asked me. My Mom looked a little worried herself, she was really quiet.

We arrived safe, and some friends came to meet us. We was going to spend some time with them, until we got a place of our own. I must admit that I was very busy that summer, while my Mom was trying to get me into a suitable Dutch School. That summer, I started swimming again, went to some kind of school camp, and many other activities.

I honestly believed my Mom was keeping me extra busy so that I would not think of St. Maarten. I had no problem with that, but the kids were very different than the St. Maarten kids. They were acting so grown up. Just not accustomed to that.

I had to do an entrance exam to get into the school, which I passed with flying colors.

The school year began and all was going very nice for me. My Mom was pushing me very hard, I had to read the Dutch papers daily and keep up to date with my home work. The school was having a hard time accepting that I was doing so well, seeing that I came from St. Maarten, a little tiny Island.

My Mom, was constantly switching jobs, she wasn’t very happy and it really made me sad, we spoke daily of all the things that was happening, but I had no clue what was about to happen next…

My Mom began to really take on stress from her JOB, constantly switching JOBS and looking for a better one. She got ill again, her skin began to peel, she began to experience epileptic attacks (got no clue what that means, the doctors told me that). I looked it up on the Internet, so I had a little clue as to what it meant.

She recovered from those problems, and all was looking good for her again, I was now doing great in the HAVO/VWO class. I was really studying hard to prove that I can do it, and show them that it doesn’t matter where you come from.

One evening me and my Mom was chatting, having fun like usual and then she told me it’s time for bed. I got up, went and prepared myself for bed. Took a shower, brushed my teeth, kissed my Mom good night and went to bed.

The next morning I awoke and noticed that it was 7:30 A.M. and my Mom was still sleeping, I stepped into her room and asked; “Mommy are you not going to work, it’s late?”

I got no response, so I went closer to the bed and shook her, she didn’t wake, I then put my hand on her forehead. She was very cold, I then took her pulse, and noticed no pulse, I placed my hand in front of her mouth and…

…felt nothing…

I started to cry and scream….

My Mom was dead… I didn’t know what to do, I started to scream harder, the tears were blinding me, I couldn’t see and I couldn’t think. I then walked over to the phone grabbed the receiver and dialed 911. Crying hysterically I told them that my Mommy is dead, they asked how old I was and told me to go over to a neighbor and ask them to come over and verify what I just said.

Well, they came over and verified, and within five minutes, five firetrucks and four ambulance was outside the building.

I was still crying, my tears saw no end, and all I did was cry, I stepped into my Mom room, and saw that she was still online, and started to send everyone a message telling them that my Mom just died, it was all that I could think of doing. I called my grandparents in Holland and in St. Maarten. It was about 2 A.M. in the morning when I told my Mom’s mother. she started to scream also. We were both crying, and the tears stopped after two hours.

I just couldn’t cry anymore….

Snap… back to reality… this is no story, this is all true, what I just wrote, and I have no words to add, because this is what that little girl, just 14 years old, said to me yesterday as she visited me from Holland…

Life is too short…

How much pain can such a young person endure?

Or better said, how does she pick up the trail and go on with her life without her parents?