Meh, it's a gray, rainy, nasty day, and those always make me introspective. Unfortunately, they keep Mom inside as well, which makes her a little crazier than usual. We've already duked it out twice today... (yeah, we have one of THOSE kinds of relationships.... communication is done best at full volume..lol) However, these exchanges always leave me feeling guilty as hell, and morally bankrupt, especially as her health fails. I don't really care who or if anyone reads this post..... this one is a "soul cleansing" for me, and me alone.
As Mother's Day rapidly approaches, I look at Mom, watching her slip a bit more....... physically, mentally.... I have become her "caregiver" in many ways, yet we are not close enough to say these words to each other. We have a rather strained relationship... always have.
We live right next door to each other, which, while it makes it easier for me to "do things for her", also increases the strain of daily living, as there is NO escape at times. Growing up, and even today, I can't remember a single instance of either of us saying "I love you" to each other, nor did I ever hear my father and her say that to each other.
Dad was an alcoholic... abusive at times.... (well, MOST of the time, actually). They had a loveless, "proper", upper middle class marriage, in which, as far as the world was concerned, everything was "perfect". Smart kids, a dog, nice old Victorian brick home..... Dad had a good job, as a civil contractor for the U.S. Navy. Mom owned and operated a furniture refinishing business for 18 years, and for a while, a grocery store, too. We always had spending money in our pockets, and decent (though sometimes homemade, in the early years) clothes on our backs. We got (used) cars for our sixteenth birthdays. Cadillac in front of the house, manicured lawn, the whole shebang. Yet things were VERY wrong, on the inside.
There was no love, no emotion in that household. "I love you" was said with the back of a hand, or a belt, or just silence and indifference. Now that the roles are reversing, it sometimes takes all I have NOT to snap at Mom, when the passive/agressive behavior or downright manipulation happens. Guilt is the keyword, and SOP for her. I still can't bring myself to tell her that I love her, and always have..... Dad died after us not speaking to each other for over ten years, except for one brief phone call, in which he said he would "call back in about fifteen minutes".... five years later, he was gone. I have worked through my emotions about our issues, but still have not managed to go to his grave, which is clear across the country, in California, thanks to his second wife ignoring his burial wishes.
These are the things that I WISH I had the nerve and will to say to Mom, before her eventual passing.....
"Dearest Mother,
Ah, we have NOT always been kind to each other, have we? I remember, but choose to forgive all the years of emotional coldness, and outright abuse on you and Dad's part. I forgive you for standing by, while us kids suffered broken arms, a broken jaw...... "falls" that were easily explained to the schools in those days, because we were "priviledged" kids, somehow, because of your family's name, even when we had no money. I forgive the Christmas presents that we were told we didn't deserve, but only got because "so and so" got one similar. Ignoring the sexual abuse that I went through at the hands of another relative, and then calling me a liar when it DID come out.
But it wasn't all bad, was it? Even before Dad got his promotions, and your business became successful... we always had food on the table, and clothing on our backs. We never begged for food, or took public assistance, learning to "make do" where we could, and to "do it ourselves" if we had to. You taught us to have strong work ethics, even if it was just your way of avoiding the pain at home.... go in every day, regardless of how you feel..... give people their money's worth, whether it be labor, if you work for someone else.... or goods, if you are self employed.
You taught us to be self-sufficient.... I can sew as well as my sister can work on her own car! You, as a master carpenter, taught me to do things with tools and scrap wood, that most would say impossible. You gave me my music, which, while the arthritis doesn't let me play the piano like I used to, still makes me AND you smile when I come over for my daily visits, and manage to find the time to whip something out of the keys occassionally.
You taught me to cook. BOTH of you. This has sustained me through over thirty years in that business... well, off and on.... I wonder, did you KNOW that you were raising your kids to be potentially single, neurotic as hell, and having to do every thing for themselves, when you did that? We all had commitment issues.... fortunately, I had David to help me through mine, and Sis has Bill, now, after three failed attempts.
I love you, Mom, for all the good things that you've given me/us.... I also have resentments galore, that pop up at the strangest times.... sometimes, all it takes is a word out of you, or "that look"... or Gods forbid... the "sigh". Things that you say and do NOW, trigger the memories of the bad years, many of which I had suppressed during my years with David, and away from you....
I think the hardest thing of all, is watching you becoming more feeble daily... you, who used to win math contests, now have to have me balance your check book. You, the avid gardener, with one of the largest ones in town, now forced by bad health and arthritis to "supervise" me while outside. You, with the huge vocabulary, and acid wit, (which I inherited FULL measure, tyvm!), now searching for the words that the strokes have left you bereft of.
You were one of the strongest women that I knew, if cold most of the time. It HURTS to watch this. As I have to assume more and more responsibilites in this situation, I die myself a little more each day. I don't want to be the "parent"... I don't want to do this, but I HAVE to. Sis is too busy with her own life, kids, Bill's kids, grandkids.... Kevin is gone. That only leaves me.
Though the memories and resentments are huge, I can forgive. I DO remember some good things, and want to create more of THOSE types of memories before the end does get here. I know that you will never see this.... I'm neither man enough, nor bitch enough to say these things to you, no matter how cathartic it might be to my spirit, especially when I just know that you will sigh, and say, as usual..."Yeah, everything's Mom's fault, as usual.", then cry and lay another layer of guilt on my soul.
But, I do wanna say that I love you underneath it all, and hope that you find your own peace before you pass.... hopefully, after many more years of making my life miserable.
Love,
Kid #1"
You know, I will NEVER print or show this to her, and since she doesn't "do" computers (her words), and no one from my RL that reads this would tell her about it, I can safely post these things. I wish I COULD say this to her. That being said, though.... I think, after having put this FINALLY down in print, albeit electronically, and the catharsis of that, when we do go eat for Mother's Day this year, I CAN bring myself to finally, after all these years, give her a hug, and tell her that I love her. *smiles*
Unless she makes me take her to Wal-Mart before lunch, that is! :P
*Peace*
Tel
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