PrefaceIt’s not Mother’s day, persay, but for me, it seems that every day is Mother’s Day. I think about my mother and her contribution to whom I have become. Perhaps it was due to the fact that I found myself in an introspective state when I saw the booking for Ascent’s first card. Perhaps it’s simply because I’m lonely. Either way, I wouldn’t be who I am, had it not been for her support and guidance.
Not all mothers love and support their children unconditionally. Some support their children so long as the decisions they are making are the ones the mother deems correct. Some cut their children loose and wish them the best. Some are never there to begin with. My mother, she supported me and provided guidance, but she always allowed me to follow the path I wanted to stroll down. She let me be me.
Yes, my father was a prize fighter, but this single fact did not propel me towards the course I’m on. Sure, I watched professional wrestling, boxing, mma, and even kung fu movies, but they didn’t make my mind up for me. I can’t give any of these things blind credit. They were all ideas--small pieces of a greater whole. What made the biggest difference in my decision was the fact that my mother never dissuaded me. She recognized that being a fighter was what I wanted and she nurtured it.
I’m sure, with the benefit of hindsight now, that she didn’t want me to become a fighter. She wanted me to become something more ‘important’ in a field where I wasn’t dodging punches. Still, she didn’t let her own wants for my life to conflict with my own desires. She wanted me to experience happiness and joy--regardless of how I gained it.
I thank her, every day. This is why I bring up Mother’s Day. At least, in my case, today is that day--her birthday.
I’m telling you about my mother, because if not for her, I wouldn’t be here, with you.1.When you’ve taken a moment to think back to your childhood, is there one memory that really stands out? Maybe it was your first memory or just a very vivid one. For me, there’s one in particular that will always stand out to me.
I was sitting in the living room playing with toys and Bob Dylan was crooning through the stereo speakers. My mom was sitting on the floor right beside me crocheting a blanket. She was murmuring the lyrics to the song. I was trying to sing along too, but I didn’t know the lyrics. My mom often told me that her first love was, in fact, Bob Dylan. I remember just giggling because I thought Bob Dylan looked funny. I was a child, thinking childish things. No offense to Mr. Dylan.
I can’t remember why exactly, but she set the blanket she was crocheting to the side and scooted over so she was directly in front of me. She leaned in and asked me what I was doing. I showed her my toys and told her that they were fighting and she frowned. She wanted to know why they were fighting and I explained that they weren’t fighting because they were mad--they were fighting because they were athletes.
She laughed.
She asked me if I was still ‘on’ about ‘that fighting stuff’ and I nodded vigorously. She asked me what kind of fighter I wanted to be. She asked ‘professional wrestler’ and flexed her muscles like she was one of them. I giggled and shook my head, ‘no’. She then asked me if I wanted to be a boxer, while putting her hands up like she was blocking punches. I giggled again and shook my head ‘no’. Then, finally, she did her best impression of a martial artist and asked if I wanted to be a kung fu fighter. To this, I shook my head ‘yes’ vigorously and smiled.
She laughed that laugh and smiled that warm smile that I’ll never forget.
She told me how special I was and that I could do anything I wanted, even if it was fighting. I laugh when I remember that she pulled me into her lap and said the only thing she was worried about was someone hurting her ‘baby girl’.
I still remember how it felt to be in her arms. I would get quiet and I’d press my ear against her chest and I would listen to the sound of her voice vibrating as she spoke. Looking back on it, I suppose it may have taken me back to the womb. That safe place. Being in her arms was close enough.
She sang to me, “May God bless and keep you always. May your wishes all come true. May you always do for others. And let others do for you.”
She rocked with me in her arms and I held her arms close and closed my eyes. I didn’t know why she chose that moment for that embrace, but it was everything. It was good. It was warm. It will stay with me forever.
She sang, “May you build a ladder to the stars. And climb on every rung. May you stay forever young. Forever young, forever young.”
I fell asleep in her arms, listening to the hum and vibration of her singing with my head against her chest.
2.“Elina!”
I snap out of it and realize that I’m in the ring with Sonny and he’s looking on at me with concern etched into his expression and blazen in his eyes.
“Where are you?” he asks.
“Right here,” I insist.
“No. You are off somewhere. Your body is here, but your mind is elsewhere. Explain,” Sonny says.
Sonny. He’s my trainer, but if I’m completely honest, he’s been much more than just a trainer for me, for many years. I’ve been depending on him for so much. If I were to be trite, I would say he is my ‘rock’. We’ve gained a special kind of closeness. Due to that closeness, however, he knows my habits, tells, and moods. Sonny knows me well. Sometimes, I wonder if he knows me too well. It’s difficult to hide anything from him.
“I’m fine. I just want to focus, ok?”
Even I don’t believe that lie.
“I want the same. I want focus. This is exactly why I need to know where you are at, in your head. If you separate your mind from body, only,” he strikes me softly in the side, “bad things can happen.”
“I know,” I admit, “It’s my mom’s birthday and I almost forgot. I never forget. I just,” I pull off my gloves and try to hide my sorrow.
“Stop right there,” Sonny pulls me in for a hug, “Just stop right there. You do not belong here, right now. No matter how pressing Ascent may feel, or actually be, there’s no reason why we cannot take a break,” he murmurs.
I let my ear press against his chest as his strong arms hold me and I listen to his voice vibrating within his chest.
“I have been pushing you too hard. Your opponent, the one they call ‘K-Remix’ is a veteran and, perhaps, I have been worried.”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” I whisper.
“Maybe you are correct. Still… We should take a break and go see your mother.”
“I’d like to go see her, wish her a happy birthday,” I hear myself say, “I’ve been missing her.”
Sonny’s voice vibrates as he tells me, “You know, only a few months after you and I met and I agreed to train you, I remember your mother taking me to the side. She told me to look after you. She told me she did not like the idea of her daughter being hurt. I told her that you had to accept the potential for hurt, but she wanted none of it. She demanded I keep you safe,” he lets out a soft laugh, “Perhaps it is this promise which has caused me to push you so hard.”
“Hurt is temporary, there’s nothing for you to protect me from,” I say.
“Yes… I suppose the type of ‘hurt’ i’m concerned about… Is the kind I cannot protect you from.”
3.When I was a teenager, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. She hid it from me until the night before her surgery. She didn’t want me to be afraid. She protected me all the way up to the moment that we drove the hospital.
I remember how selfish I was, back then, when all I could think about was how her being sick affected me. I wish I could go back and undo my selfishness, I really do.
Her surgery was a successful one. They were able to remove the tumor and after chemotherapy, she was ‘cured’. There was this period of time where she struggled, but she managed to get over it and keep moving forward. I was there for her during her recovery and I stayed close to her as she recouped. I didn’t want to get too far from her. I was so scared, but even then, all I could think about was how it was affecting me.
So selfish.
I was twenty two and had only known Sonny for a short time when I found out that my mother’s breast cancer had returned. It had metastasized and the doctors called it ‘stage four’ and I was in pure denial, feigning ignorance to what ‘stage four’ really meant. I was pretending that it would ‘magically’ go away and everything would return to normal.
Even though I barely knew him, at the time, Sonny was so good to me and my mother. For some reason he stayed close to us. When we should have been in the gym, he sat in chairs in waiting rooms and kept an almost constant vigil.
When I look back on it, my mother and I would have been completely alone, had it not been for him.
My mother’s condition deteriorated, over time, to the point where she couldn’t do much for herself. The money ran out, right around the same time, so we had to move the hospital into our house.
Sonny helped me set up that hospital bed for my mom and I remember as we went about putting it together, that’s when it sunk in for me that my mother was going to die. I felt so weak and so sick, but I still just did my best to soldier on and act like nothing was wrong. We turned the living room into a nice little room for her, with open windows and plenty of flowers.
Her favorite flowers were snap dragons.
I didn’t do anything, but stay with her. I couldn’t function outside of caring for her. I quit my job, left my personal life slip away, and I just stayed with her. She needed my help to do about everything.
Somewhere between accepting her inevitable passing and my own fear of letting her go, that I finally let go of the selfishness. I stopped thinking about how it was affecting me and I started to think only about how it was affecting her.
Not long after that, the breast cancer moved to her lungs and soon she could barely breathe. She hadn’t smoked a single cigarette in her life and I she was stricken with lung cancer.
I couldn’t decide whether I should cry, fight, or bury my head. I didn’t know what to do, back then.
Then, one night she perked up and was acting like the mom I had known for years. Not that she ever stopped being that mom, but I saw that ‘spark’ again.
She smiled and told me that she loved me. She asked me to ‘make myself small’ so she could hold me. I did. I crawled onto the bed and pushed myself into her arms, and rested my ear against her chest. I could hear her heart beating and ignored the sound of what the cancer had done to her lungs.
Her voice vibrated in her chest as she told me, “I want you to go out there and be the best you can be, ok? You’re going to have to be stronger than you’ve ever been before, but I know you have it in you. I know you can do it. Don’t give up on your dreams. Even if it means that someone will hurt my baby girl. I want you to rise back up and show them your strength.”
I cried, “I’ll never be as strong as you.”
“You already are, dear. In fact, stronger,” she whispered, “Promise me something, though, ok? If anyone ever ask about me, like, if you have children... Please don’t tell them about me now. Just tell them about who I was, when I was strong, ok?”
At that moment, she was as strong as I had ever known her. As weakened as she was, she still had that heart. That strong heart. The strong heart I hope beats within my chest.
“Ok Mom, I will. I promise.”
She squeezed me hard and sang, “May you grow up to be righteous. May you grow up to be true. May you always know the truth. And see the lights surrounding you,” she caressed my cheek gently, like she had done so many times before, “May you always be courageous. Stand upright and be strong. May you stay forever young. Forever young, forever young. May you stay forever young.”
4.“Snap dragons were her favorite,” I say, smelling the flowers in my hand, “They smell like bubble gum.”
We’re walking down a stone path and uncharacteristically, Sonny leans over to smell the flowers. He’s silent for a moment as we walk before finally confirming, “They do. Smell like bubble gum.”
“I think she’ll like them,” I smile.
She’ll love them. They’re all the colors of the rainbow and plentiful. I always go overboard when it comes to flowers for mom.
“Of course she will, love them,” he says.
Sometimes it’s too easy to think about what happens and try to pin the blame. I find myself sometimes blaming the world, like it really cares about those on its back. I mean, in a very organic way, the ‘world’ does care, but it doesn’t deserve the blame I try to pin on it. We have to learn from everything we see, do, and have happen to us. If we cannot do this, well, we might not be worth the oxygen it takes to keep us alive.
My mom’s words, not my own.
I can’t pin ‘blame’ on anything because there is no ‘blame’. There is only loss. Loss we cannot allow to destroy us.
I don’t know what I’m trying to say.
“Mom.” I say.
We reach Mom’s grave and Sonny keeps a respectful distance as I approach the grave and kneel before it. I brush some leaves away from the grave marker and set the flowers to the upper right hand side of it.
“I almost missed your birthday. Sorry. I’ve been so busy, but I have exciting news, here in just a few days, I will finally step into the ring. I’m really going to do it. The guy I’m up against, he’s this veteran silver tongued devil, so it will be an uphill battle, but we will see. I’m just excited to get out there and finally test myself.”
I wonder if I’m talking to myself or if she can really hear me. I feel like just maybe I’m being selfish again or sentimental. I can think of a million other places she’d be aside from ‘hanging out’ around her grave. This, this is just dirt. If there is an afterlife, she’s far off, seeing things I can’t even imagine. Still…
“I miss you. I know it’s been a while now, I’ve lost count, but still, I miss you. I miss the sound of your voice. I miss your laugh. I miss your wisdom.”
She’s inside me. I know it. I tell myself that and people around me echo those thoughts. Still, I don’t always think about it. Sometimes I focus on how, each day, my memory lets pieces of her slip away and it scares me.
“I love you mom,” I whisper.
I miss everything. The good, the bad. I miss how it felt to be around her. She was stolen from this earth far before her time. It crushes me.
I feel Sonny’s hand gently caress my shoulder as I sing, “May your hands always be busy. May your feet always be swift. May you have a strong foundation. When the winds of changes shift. May your heart always be joyful. And may your song always be sung. May you stay forever young. Forever young, forever young…”
I miss you, Mom.
“May you stay forever young.”
End.
Dear K-Remix,
I’ve taken time to watch tape on you and I’ve been nothing short of impressed. You are an opponent who mustn’t be taken lightly, regardless of what your previous opponents believed. You would agree with me, I’m sure, as would they, now having faced you. Yes. You are, indeed, a phenomenal addition to the Ascent roster.
I, unfortunately, cannot boast the same background as you. I am new to this sport; you have history. I have not faced nearly as many opponents as you have and arguably, I am at a disadvantage as a result.
That being said, I see a recurring thematic in your existence. You like to talk and you like to sling insults. Even while pointing out the fact that your opponents did the same to you, I can’t help but see that you suffer from the same propensity for lack of oversight. Yes, you have a ‘way with words’ but they often times become the words of a childish man who simply wishes to win an ‘insult contest’.
I am not suited for this type of ‘battle’ due to the fact that I do not see people for the various cliches and stereotypes they represent. I don’t just see ‘rookie little shits’ and ‘old past their prime veterans’. I put my focus on traits beyond those simple and easily recognizable.
You for example, K Remix… I could focus on your need to insult your opponents and poke at the ‘weaknesses’ you prescribe for them. I could continue that focus on your language and your apathy. Example: Your apathy represents a true millennial ideology and you have the fish-bowl ignorance to go with it. I am sure I could spend an entire promo focusing solely on that, but I won’t.
You deserve better than that.
Truth be told, I see a young talented man who speaks of his father a lot. I see a young man who may or may not be in his father’s shadow. You want to step out of this shadow, as I’m sure you will, but if you cannot separate yourself from your predecessor, it could lead to your undoing.
What happens when you’re at the top of this ‘game’ and everyone around you congratulates your father. How will you respond to hearing the credit you deserve going to your father?
Perhaps you will appreciate it. You do openly admire your father’s accomplishments and speak on them at length. Still, I believe this is merely your way of ‘getting your foot in the door’ to be heard. There will be a point when you must separate yourself from your father and stand on your own two feet. Will you be able to? How will you respond if you find out that the only reason the fans and ‘higher ups’ are listening to you is because of your father’s name?
Speculate at will, K Remix.
Furthermore, this apathy you wear like a crown is interesting to me. You claim ‘the numbers of fucks I give are between zero and a negative number’ if that is possible.
Apologies, I do not enjoy using profanity, but it was necessary for the paraphrase.
I digress.
Now, I must bring up your admiration for your father. When you speak at length of what he’s done and what you will do as a result, are you really a man who doesn’t care? I believe the opposite to be true. Your words tell me that you care a lot. I could argue that you care more than I do.
I’m no one. You’re K Remix.
You have built this guise through hours upon hours of focused thought. This requires you to care. You can claim the opposite, but your words will soon be rendered irrelevant.
In my opinion, you are a talented young man who needs to recognize his own hypocrisy before it’s too late.
I’ll see you in Portland.
Farewell,
E. Cartel
