|| Unflattering Moment..again ||

Her name was Flore, or as I called her, Nenen, Godmother in Creole. Someone who is given the responsibility by the parents of the infant to care and always be there for the child in times of happiness and hardship is what a Godmother should be. Many people did not have a Godmother and I was one of the privileged children who did especially one who was just 10 years older than me. Constantly calling to check up on me or sending me birthday gifts, she held a special place in my heart. However, around the age of seven, the gifts and phone calls stopped.
From the ages of seven to thirteen, I had not heard from Flore. Never bothering to call when I would be extremely sick in the hospital, never bothering to return any of my messages. My Godmother missed out on dance recitals telling my mother she was going to surprise me but never showing up. At fourteen, I had one of the most important events of my life, my Baptism. Everyone was there but her. A few days later, anger began to bottle up inside of me. Did she forget who I was or did she simply not care. After a few weeks, I discovered that her wedding that I was supposed to walk in already happened. Fury and frustration overwhelmed me, she was unforgivable.
A few days following, I had called her knowing that I may do or say something completely out of my character. "I hate you! Do what you do best, stay out of my life." The conversation lasted an hour and finished with a plea of forgiveness and me ending the call midway through her sentence. I never called back nor did I ever feel the urge to. Two years later, I answered a call from a number that greatly resembled a Boston Medical Hospital number. “Macda?” said the voice. It was a familiar voice that immediately filled me with anger. “What?” I responded, aware of who was speaking. Sobs and hysterical crying filled my eardrums, “I’ve been diagnosed with a brain tumor.”