| | My mother is dying. Actually, I should say “barring a miracle,” my mother is dying. I do believe in miracles, and I do pray for a healing miracle to set her free from her cancer. But I also believe in preparing for the worst, while hoping for the best. I believe that we should take the opportunities God gives us—especially when it comes to things like reconciliation.
My mother and I have not always had an easy relationship. Over the years—and for the sake of my sobriety and my serenity, I have found that I sometimes have to hold her at arm's length. It’s not something I like to do; in fact, sometimes it makes me sad to have to keep that distance—but it is something I have to do.
Mom and I have never talked about this. I know that she senses it; she’s a smart woman—but I’ve always known that, if I were to broach the subject, to try to explain to her why I need to keep a distance, it would only hurt her. And I’ve never liked hurting her.
Before she dies, I was hoping that she and I would be able to clear the air a bit. Not for her sake, but for mine. I’d like to drop this burden, or at least get it out in the open, while she’s still around. Or I may end up carrying it around for the rest of my life. Put simply, my mother is dying, and this is something I need to do.
I had an opportunity to spend some time with my mother a few weeks ago. I had planned on staying for a little over a week, and I hoped that the time would give me the opportunity to lower the walls; maybe even find a time to talk to her about why I need to keep some distance—not in a vindictive way or a hurtful way, but in an open way. Perhaps even an uplifting way.
Unfortunately, that never happened. For about a day and a half, her health was good, but then it deteriorated pretty quickly. And then my sister arrived on the scene and my opportunity to clear the air with my mother was gone. She was originally supposed to stick around and take care of mom for a couple of weeks, and then go back home. And I thought that, maybe when she left, I could spend some time with mom again, and maybe clear the air. But no. That wasn’t how it worked out.
See, my sister’s needs are to stay with mom, perhaps to the final end. And here’s the really crappy part. I tried to explain to her why I needed some time with mom—tried to get her to take a few days off and let mom and I have some time together. But she would have none of it. She not only took offense, she played the victim with my mother, who got upset at me for the conflict. And now I seriously doubt my mother and I will be able to clear the air—even if we get the time to.
I’m not sure if all families are like this, but mine certainly is. With family comes history and prejudice. With family comes roles and agendas. In my family, I’m the troublemaker. I’m the risk taker. I’m the one who gets people upset. The right and the wrong of the situation really doesn’t matter. For some members of my family, I’m still the reason my parents got divorced. I’m still the reason my mother worried herself sick on God knows how many occasions. And I’m still the one who is always stubborn and always arrogant and always willful. And, of course, there’s nothing I can do to change anything they think about me (let’s face it, there’s really nothing anyone can do to make someone see you the way you want them to—family or not). I know this a common experience among recovering alcoholics, but that doesn’t make it any easier. It’s like they have a picture of the person they think I am, and no matter what I say or do in this world, they’ll interpret it all in just the way to fit that picture. That’s my family.
My mother was the oldest in her family, just as I am the oldest in my family. She taught me something about being the oldest. The oldest is sometimes the one that doesn’t get what her or she needs. The oldest has to be the first one to make the sacrifice, so that the younger ones can get the things they want. And that’s the bitter irony in this situation. I’m doing my best to suck it up and hope that God can give me the support and closure that my family cannot. In other words, I’m doing my best to honor what my mother has taught me.
But my family won’t see it that way. All they see is the conflict, and all they have for me is blame and recrimination. I’m glad I have my God to fall back on. |
| | Posted 7/17/2008 6:18 PM - 44 Views - 4 eProps - 2 comments
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