“FAMILY ABOVE all” used to be the first thing I would see on my mom’s Facebook page as she plastered the quote all over her profile. Amid all the constant switching of partners my mom had in her life, the saying was a constant reminder that she would have the perfect family she always dreamed of one day. Even through years of heartbreak, betrayal, and abuse, my mom never gave up on finding the love of her life.

My family experienced its first rift when I was four years old. The moment has since become a distant memory in my head, so all I remember is my family leaving my dad and his house behind. Nonetheless, my dad was permitted constant visits to the new home we settled in, softening the blow that this breakup would have had on my psyche.

But one thing I surely did not inherit from my mother is her will to keep moving forward. I found her battle for love admirable, but my classmates and their parents disagreed. My family issues were reduced to meaningless gossip between parents, while my classmates would innocently ask questions but sometimes hurl statements that rattled me to my core.

“Look guys, Aga has a new dad again!” they would say during parent-teacher conferences. But, of course, the same kids who complained about their overbearing parents were the ones mocking me for having a relatively happy yet ever-changing household.

My jealousy and desire for normalcy led to me refusing to recognize my mom’s partners, whom I never saw as anyone more than visiting strangers. Yet with every breakup and separation, the lingering hope that my mom would finally find a partner one day began to fade away. I refused to admit it, but I also felt the pain of each loss. I was a hopeless kid that learned to attach his trust and love to these father figures.

Seven years ago, my mom met her most recent partner. She had just come from her longest relationship with someone we all thought would be “the one.” My expectations have been shattered repeatedly, so I felt nothing for this new woman—not to disregard the strange coming out experience my mom and I shared, but this just felt odd.

Somehow, this new woman possessed the best qualities seen in my mom’s previous relationships to the point where I was convinced men were the problem. My suspicions were slowly but surely sated, and I allowed myself to live with peace and happiness in my heart. In my 12 years of living, it felt like I finally got what I deserved.

I told my mom’s new partner that I wanted her to stay. I didn’t want to decide for my mom, but I knew she was the one. Everything felt like it clicked, the years flew by, and I was happy. Gone were the days of me being embarrassed by having a broken family. I wanted to flaunt my two moms to the world because how cool was that?

When the lockdown came, my other mom was overwhelmed with issues from her past, which soon affected our whole family. Tensions rose, and arguments were frequent. Yet, I never worried as I believed fate would keep us together. Then, over a year ago, I woke up and realized that my other mom was missing. She hasn’t come back ever since.

To this day, we don’t know where it all went wrong. She was the one—and I refused to believe otherwise.

I was too foolish and innocent to recognize the path that life had paved for my mom. It seemed that her story has been written ever since she was born—a woman destined never to have “the one.”

I’ve come to hate my empty home that once rang with laughter and joy, so I say yes to every opportunity that allows me to go out in a desperate attempt to capture some semblance of happiness. I wish I could one day go home to both my moms welcoming me back after a long and exhausting day.

I know my family will slowly but surely rise from this mess, as we always do. Last month, my mom and I discovered that we’ve both been sending daily messages to my other mom. We couldn’t help but laugh at our desperation and agreed that maybe it was time to finally move on. Perhaps I’ll send her this article as a final goodbye hoping that the empty check-marked circle I’m all too familiar with will eventually light up.