Happy Birthday Mom
Today is my mom's birthday but she is no longer with me to celebrate it. She died Sept. 12, 2005 at 7:33 p.m. She died in my arms. She took her last breath while I hugged her and told her I loved her. I tried to avoid remembering this day but someone sent me a sympathy birthday card for her and I thought I would die.
You know what I find a contradiction, something I don't understand? Is why? Why am I grieving this woman who treated me worse then a dog all my life? Why am I so heartbroken over a person who did not have the courage to tell me she loved me until I was 21 years old and only because she thought I was moving out and leaving her forever? Why am I mourning the one person in my life that brought me so much sorrow when I was a child that people avoided me because I was so quiet and shy and long in the face? Why? I should hate her. I should dance on her grave.
I took care of my mom the last nine months of her life. I had too. No one else would. No one else could. I was having a hard time with my daughter because of the death of my husband, and had to make the choice of being a mother or building a career. I chose to be a mother. I chose to devote my life to my daughter before I lost her. So, because I did not have a job anymore, I started going over to my mom's house during the day when my sister and brother worked, and then at night they took care of her.
During that time I became closer to my mother and my feelings started to change. She was helpless and it didn't seem right to be angry at her. I couldn't. I mean, she was still a nutcase and liked to cause problems, but I suddenly found something in myself which wasn't there before.
Compassion. Forgiveness.
I realized all the years of hurt and sorrow she forced me to go through couldn't be helped. Not by her anyway. She was mentally ill. She spent her time popping valium, drinking beer, and smoking three packs a day so she could drown the pain. This realization brought out another emotion for her.
Sorrow.
Wasted years. That's what we had. Wasted love.
That's it. I cry for the wasted time and all the "I love you's" we should have been saying to each other. I cry for the times that we could have enjoyed going shopping together, talking on the phone or just coming over to have a cup of coffee. I cry for the years my daughter had no grandmother to go and visit and no grandfather to hold her. My mom ruined my father's health and he suffered a lot of strokes which left him unable to do much of anything but lay in a bed for eighteen years, and push the buttons on the t.v. remote.
I cry for another reason too. I am a religious person. I believe you pay for the sins you commit. It worries me that God would judge my mom unfit to enter heaven and that breaks my heart because I forgive her. I hold no hate in my heart for her. I hold nothing but love and compassion in my heart. It bother's me so much that I pray every night that she is forgiven and shown compassion. How can God not have pity for her? She was ill. But what really worries me is my sister.
She does not forgive my mother. She hates her.
I know my sister has the right to feel anyway she wants to but she can't put the blame for the failure of her life completely off on our mother. She chose the path in life she wanted to walk by not making smart decisions about money and men. She wants to blame everything that is wrong in her life on my mother. Well that's just not right.
I could have taken a lot of different paths too and ended up like my sister but I didn't. I knew the only way to change my life and make it better, and not the train wreck my mother's life had become, was to keep my eye on the prize. The light if you will. To keep the faith not just to God but to myself. My sister never had any faith and she still doesn't. She refuses to pray or ask God for anything because he is as much to blame for her mistakes as my mother.
And if things could not get any worse, I have been dreaming about my parents almost every night now for two weeks. This is especially hard on me because my Dad passed Dec. 15, 2005, just a few short months after my mom passed. I took me almsot three months to finally get up and off my couch and stop crying long enough to get a part time job and then my Dad died. Back to the couch I went. The overwhelming feeling that I no longer had a past, any connection to my childhood, no matter how awful it had been, was devastating.
I finally pulled myself together in March and gave myself a good kick in the butt. Mark helped too.
Mark shared stories of his Dad and how he died. He told me just how much it still hurt sometimes to think of him even though it had been years since he had passed. He even offered to send me a bunch of books so I would have something to take my mind off my grief. He is a good person and I sure miss him.
Okay. I guess I should stop being a big. whiney, cry baby. Besides, I don't want my daughter to see me like this. She has been through enough with the death of her father. Besides, she thinks I'm Super Mommy and Super Mommy's don't cry. Super Mommy's leap small towers of Lego's in a single bound and whip up chocolate chip cookies at just the right time and know how to get any stain out in a single washing (well, maybe a couple washings).
Besides, it is a good day to be happy and not think about the past. It is nice outside and I want to take my daughter swimming. I can't change the relationship I had with my mother but I can be damn sure the relationship with my daughter is strong and full of all the hugs and "I love you's" I can possibly squeeze into one day without smothering my child.
I am also going to do one other thing. I am going to buy a rose and place it on my mother's grave.
God bless you mom and happy birthday. I love you and all has been forgiven. May you rest in eternal peace.
In loving memory:
Arlene L. Draper, July 6, 1934 - Sept. 12, 2005
http://users.1st.net/teddi/index25.htm
Go Rest High On That Mountain
I know your life On earth was troubled
And only you could know the pain
You weren't afraid to face the devil
You were no stranger to the rain
Go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son
Oh, how we cried the day you left us
We gathered round your grave to grieve
I wish I could see the angels faces
When they hear your sweet voice sing
Go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son
Go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son
Written By Vince Gill Copyright 1994
You know what I find a contradiction, something I don't understand? Is why? Why am I grieving this woman who treated me worse then a dog all my life? Why am I so heartbroken over a person who did not have the courage to tell me she loved me until I was 21 years old and only because she thought I was moving out and leaving her forever? Why am I mourning the one person in my life that brought me so much sorrow when I was a child that people avoided me because I was so quiet and shy and long in the face? Why? I should hate her. I should dance on her grave.
I took care of my mom the last nine months of her life. I had too. No one else would. No one else could. I was having a hard time with my daughter because of the death of my husband, and had to make the choice of being a mother or building a career. I chose to be a mother. I chose to devote my life to my daughter before I lost her. So, because I did not have a job anymore, I started going over to my mom's house during the day when my sister and brother worked, and then at night they took care of her.
During that time I became closer to my mother and my feelings started to change. She was helpless and it didn't seem right to be angry at her. I couldn't. I mean, she was still a nutcase and liked to cause problems, but I suddenly found something in myself which wasn't there before.
Compassion. Forgiveness.
I realized all the years of hurt and sorrow she forced me to go through couldn't be helped. Not by her anyway. She was mentally ill. She spent her time popping valium, drinking beer, and smoking three packs a day so she could drown the pain. This realization brought out another emotion for her.
Sorrow.
Wasted years. That's what we had. Wasted love.
That's it. I cry for the wasted time and all the "I love you's" we should have been saying to each other. I cry for the times that we could have enjoyed going shopping together, talking on the phone or just coming over to have a cup of coffee. I cry for the years my daughter had no grandmother to go and visit and no grandfather to hold her. My mom ruined my father's health and he suffered a lot of strokes which left him unable to do much of anything but lay in a bed for eighteen years, and push the buttons on the t.v. remote.
I cry for another reason too. I am a religious person. I believe you pay for the sins you commit. It worries me that God would judge my mom unfit to enter heaven and that breaks my heart because I forgive her. I hold no hate in my heart for her. I hold nothing but love and compassion in my heart. It bother's me so much that I pray every night that she is forgiven and shown compassion. How can God not have pity for her? She was ill. But what really worries me is my sister.
She does not forgive my mother. She hates her.
I know my sister has the right to feel anyway she wants to but she can't put the blame for the failure of her life completely off on our mother. She chose the path in life she wanted to walk by not making smart decisions about money and men. She wants to blame everything that is wrong in her life on my mother. Well that's just not right.
I could have taken a lot of different paths too and ended up like my sister but I didn't. I knew the only way to change my life and make it better, and not the train wreck my mother's life had become, was to keep my eye on the prize. The light if you will. To keep the faith not just to God but to myself. My sister never had any faith and she still doesn't. She refuses to pray or ask God for anything because he is as much to blame for her mistakes as my mother.
And if things could not get any worse, I have been dreaming about my parents almost every night now for two weeks. This is especially hard on me because my Dad passed Dec. 15, 2005, just a few short months after my mom passed. I took me almsot three months to finally get up and off my couch and stop crying long enough to get a part time job and then my Dad died. Back to the couch I went. The overwhelming feeling that I no longer had a past, any connection to my childhood, no matter how awful it had been, was devastating.
I finally pulled myself together in March and gave myself a good kick in the butt. Mark helped too.
Mark shared stories of his Dad and how he died. He told me just how much it still hurt sometimes to think of him even though it had been years since he had passed. He even offered to send me a bunch of books so I would have something to take my mind off my grief. He is a good person and I sure miss him.
Okay. I guess I should stop being a big. whiney, cry baby. Besides, I don't want my daughter to see me like this. She has been through enough with the death of her father. Besides, she thinks I'm Super Mommy and Super Mommy's don't cry. Super Mommy's leap small towers of Lego's in a single bound and whip up chocolate chip cookies at just the right time and know how to get any stain out in a single washing (well, maybe a couple washings).
Besides, it is a good day to be happy and not think about the past. It is nice outside and I want to take my daughter swimming. I can't change the relationship I had with my mother but I can be damn sure the relationship with my daughter is strong and full of all the hugs and "I love you's" I can possibly squeeze into one day without smothering my child.
I am also going to do one other thing. I am going to buy a rose and place it on my mother's grave.
God bless you mom and happy birthday. I love you and all has been forgiven. May you rest in eternal peace.
In loving memory:
Arlene L. Draper, July 6, 1934 - Sept. 12, 2005
http://users.1st.net/teddi/index25.htm
Go Rest High On That Mountain
I know your life On earth was troubled
And only you could know the pain
You weren't afraid to face the devil
You were no stranger to the rain
Go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son
Oh, how we cried the day you left us
We gathered round your grave to grieve
I wish I could see the angels faces
When they hear your sweet voice sing
Go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son
Go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son
Go to heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son
Written By Vince Gill Copyright 1994
posted by Liz at 8:06 PM
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