He Threw the Last Punch Too Hard by Hannah Kozak

Issue 166

When I was 9, my mother left our family after falling in love with another man. The man she left us for turned out to be violent: he beat her so badly that she suffered permanent brain damage and had to be moved into an assisted living facility at the age of forty-one, where she lived for 35 years.  The last eight years she has been at one of the best facilities in the country.  

I have early, fond memories of my mother as a beautiful, passionate, vivacious, and fiery Sophia Loren type brunette. But since she left, I have had tremendous feelings of abandonment and rage towards her. Her actions led me to judge her as an impetuous, selfish, reckless and negligent mother. I resented what she did to herself and to her family. I carried so much anger, yet whenever I saw her, I was overcome with pity and sadness.  Just looking at her right hand gnarled from the brain damage brought forth more emotion than I could bear. For these reasons, I have virtually ignored my mother in an attempt to distance myself from my own pain. 

But pain ignored does not disappear and over time I came to realize our relationship needed healing. Working as a stuntwoman of 25 years, I broke both feet jumping out of a helicopter onto the tallest building in downtown L.A.  That time forced me to go inward, where I made the decision to return to school. I had to hurt so much that something broke inside of me.  Thankfully, through graduate work in Spiritual Psychology and work I did with a healer, I was able to dissolve the judgments I carried about my mother and myself and begin to forge a relationship with her.  

I feel our connection without fear as I create photos meant to take me out of my comfort zone. These photos tell my mother's story of isolation, loneliness, abuse, connection, compassion, forgiveness, family, humanity, grace, joy and above all, love. I didn’t need to travel the world to deepen my spirituality. My greatest teacher was in front of me my entire life. I just couldn’t see it was my mother; a true Bodhisattva. She forgave me for not visiting her all those decades without uttering a word. I forgave her for leaving our family. Forgiveness happens when you care more about the love in a relationship than the logic of your ego. I no longer pity my mother. She continually inspires me teaching me to live by my heart, not my head. The love I feel for her has broken my heart wide open. 

My mother is a symbol of perseverance. Even though she suffered permanent disability from domestic violence; she never lost her kindness, belief in love and hope.  As my mother’s body deteriorated; her right hand turning in more, her soul flourished. What happened to my mother also fractured my persona yet we both grew from the trauma and she refused to be covered with a veil of pity. She is comfortable in silence and is fully present in the moment. I never planned to show these photos when I made them but I've learned that by sharing myself and my process of healing, that in turn helps others on their path to healing. 

Update: Rachel Zarco passed on March 18, 2023 at 1:12am. I was holding her hand. When my mother left this dimension, she sprinkled bits of her soul across humanity. She demonstrated that there is nothing as whole as a broken heart. She was an extraordinary being with a special capacity to help others. My mother didn’t glimpse the nature of spirituality, she became one with it.  I watched my momma embrace the final moment of liberation and will always be honored she chose me to be there to witness that.  

Hannah Kozak (she/her) lives and works in Los Angeles, California.
hannahkozak.com | @hannahkozak | Book link for He Threw the Last Punch Too Hard
Shortlisted by the Lucie Foundation as Best First Photo Book of 2020