I'm going to expand on my previous post about grieving an abusive parent. I started the book "Motherless Daughters: The Legacy of Loss" just a few months after my mother passed away. (You can read about how I happened to land upon that here), but due to being in my last trimester of pregnancy, dealing with some behavior issues in our first born, and then HAVING our second child and the whirlwind that is parenting, I had to put it away for a while. I wasn't neglecting my grief, I just couldn't delve into the book at the time, in spite of it's helpfulness.
It has been almost a year since my mother passed away. I was in a funk last week and I couldn't figure out why and then all of a sudden it occurred to me....'ohhhhh yeah....this was the time." And I began to wonder, have I even processed that? I know it's time to deal with something when it replays or comes forward with a rush of emotion. I'm not sure I even know how to put it in words. I have to resist the urge to want to shove that in a mental box, never to be opened again.
When it came time to say goodbye, I was terrified...I mean, I haven't seen this woman in years, and for good reason. She finally conceded to let me have my husband with me and I knew it was time. She had, up until then, refused to let me have him present because SHE was afraid of HIM. He had only ever protected me, and she was the one I needed protection from. I didn't know if she would use those final moments to be awful, or if somehow God would restrain her- so I wanted my husband there. I had a group of friends praying about the whole thing and surprisingly, all I felt was peace once I got there. But, it was so hard. I cried immediately when I saw her. She was just a fragment of what she once was. She was rail thin, emaciated. Her skin was gaunt, and her eyes sunken in. She had tubes everywhere. Her intestines were greatly affected both by the cancer but also from the chemotherapy. She couldn't eat because she couldn't digest anything. She would take a sip of water and seconds later, it would come pouring out of a tube that protruded from her stomach. I am a nurse, so this largely didn't scare me. But...truly, her death was terrible. It broke my heart to see how greatly she suffered in the end. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. She alternated between lucid and incoherent. At times it felt like I was talking to a child, and others she was present and even made some sense. She would babble on about what items in the house she wanted us to have, and then burst into tears at the thought that she was leaving. She wanted to do it all over again. She wanted to go back and be the mom that we needed. All I could do was nod to that. I didn't try to make her feel better about her choices or belittle our experiences with her. I just simply nodded. At my response, she quickly said "well, I did the best I could. I was so broken." Her mental illness again running the show. To me, seeing her in that state was like seeing a very physical representation of her state of mind. Her mind was, too, ravaged by disease- just a different disease. I reassured her that I had forgiven her, she was not in my debt. I wanted her to know that when it was time to go, she could go in peace knowing that I held nothing against her. She nodded, tears filling her eyes.
I've been trying to figure out why it took me so long to grieve. I don't judge myself for this, it is what it is. I think a majority of it is because while she was living, whenever I felt the pangs of not having a mother figure, my not having a mother was a much better option than having a mother like her. I couldn't really look beyond that. I realize what I'm grieving now is what I had always wanted and needed. What I had always hoped I would get from her or that our relationship could be. In many ways, what I'm feeling now, the absence, mirrors how I felt all growing up: She was physically there, but emotionally absent. Her emotional absence was preferred to the constant boundary violations or her abusive presence, but both left me without the mother that I always wanted and needed. I couldn't acknowledge that longing deep inside or that feeling of emptiness or absence that I had been carrying for a very long time. I feel it when parenting is hard and I really wish I had someone to call and get advice from. When I'm trying to make a decision and just need a listening ear, I feel the absence. When my daughters do something amazing and hilarious or absolutely terrifying and maddening, I feel the absence. The longing. Its incredibly weird to be in my very early thirties and have no parents. To feel like you still need their support at times, or guidance and there is no one there. It's very hard.
I am incredibly grateful for the friends that I call family. Those who have stepped in and and filled in the gaps. It has made all the difference in the world to me.
