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January 23, 2008 / allyo

That long list of unfinished posts comes to the rescue

I don’t have much to write about these days, what with the mid-winter blahs and some private furstrations that make for whining, not good blogging. So I was looking through my drafts for something to publish and I found this. It’s from summertime of last year, and it’s as good a jumping off point as any:

C (my mother) has been on my mind lately. We had a few visits around Christmas at the nursing home, then about 2 months ago I got a card in the mail telling me her doctor was sending her to another facility for complete bedrest and wound care. (I’m not going to get into her multiple health concerns, but they are severe and life-shortening at best.) Then, nothing. The first month went by without much concern. As the second month drew to a close I started to worry, just a bit. My worry was mixed with annoyance as I played our next conversation in my head, sure that the blame for this latest silence would somehow be placed on me.

Last week I was thinking about this concern I felt. No matter how far I push her away from me, the woman gave me life. And so as long as she is alive, she will be a part of me. I started to wonder if, now that Grandma is gone, now that, shall we call it, that bizarre love triangle has been dissolved, if C and I could somehow start fresh. But every time I turn to walk down that path, a wall comes slamming down. As far as I’m concerned, C stole my relationship with Grandma those last three years she was alive. C knew Grandma had dementia but didn’t bother to tell me. She knew Grandma was acting hurtfully toward me, was shutting me out, and she did nothing. She enjoyed being the only one my Grandma would turn to and this cost me dearly. And so no, no, we cannot start over.

We did finally have a visit last August and it was surprisingly pleasant, and then I kind of freaked out a little, what with her being back in my grandma’s house, and then we had the anniversary of my grandma’s death, etc. But we’ve been in touch little bits here and there, and of course she sends a steady stream of cards to Jamie. Christmas eve always used to be the time we exchanged gifts with her and grandma, and as Jamie and I were packing up cookies to give away that afternoon, I couldn’t bear it. I had to see her. I had to, I dunno, acknowledge that it was “our” day, even though there’s not a lot of “we” left. So Jamie and I popped over and she was happy and surprised, and then I sent her a birthday card earlier this month and we’ll go over for a visit soon. It’s just, I feel this pressure building up inside of me. She’s here, she’s not going anywhere, and for some reason I can’t just forget that. When the pressure becomes unbearable, we visit, and then I’m good for awhile.

So we’re not starting over, but we’re not ending either. It’s some strange in-between that seems to be enough for now.

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