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August 4, 2008 / allyo

Her

How is it that a woman lays in a hospital nearby, hooked up to a bunch of machines and undergoing a battery of tests, and this is all about me? I’ve been thinking about this for the past 24 hours or so.

After the intial panic of being asked to take on the task of sheparding C through the medical system, of being her advocate, once I realized that task wasn’t to be mine, why did it continue to be about me and my pain?

When I went to the hospital on Saturday, my cousin, Tina, and Ruth were already there. They were teary-eyed, looking for answers, frightened and hurting. I was cold – I usually am at times like these. Like my grandma, I flip into “go” mode when faced with the matter at hand, only stopping to break down once I am safely at home in bed or hiding in the bathroom. Or the kitchen floor. As the case may be.

But this was different. I wasn’t just cold because it was time to be focused and on task. Even when I first saw her, I didn’t feel that rush of emotion one might – one should – when faced with a loved one…But that’s it. I don’t really love her.

So why does it matter? Because she and I are connected. Because I can’t shake that connection. Because the wounds, the hurt – the mother-hurt – run too deep. She threw me away, and then demanded respect and love whenever she deigned to drop into my life. She missed almost every opportunity I gave her to redeem herself, determined, even when faced with the loss of her grandchild, determined and adamant that she had apologized enough.

Except she hadn’t. I remember once, one time, when talking about her step-daughter’s mother how she realized what she lost out on when she “gave me up.” (Pretty, noble words for a heinous act.)  And I long, I ache, for what could have been. I see the women that have been her friends for going on 40 years, and I wonder, why am I the one that has been the brunt of her cruelest, most hurtful actions? Was my birth that devastating to her or is she just not meant to be a mother? Even her “apology” was about her and what she missed, not what she did to ME. HER CHILD.

It’s about me because I am the child and she is the mother and I will always want what she cannot give. I will always want to feel what I cannot feel. I will always hate her and long for her.

I don’t want her to die. I just want her to disappear. I want her and the pain to just leave. Poof. It’s about me because I don’t know what to do, how to act, what to say, or what to feel. I just know that we are connected. Hating it doesn’t make it not true.

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2 Comments

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  1. dawn / Aug 4 2008 2:23 pm

    Allyo, I’m hurting for you so much right now. I wish there was something I could say to ease your pain.

  2. LittleWit / Aug 4 2008 3:19 pm

    Giant hugs to you.

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