This is a different kind of post when it comes to remembering, because I am a realist. With that in mind, please take the time to bear with me....
It has been a year since I've lost the presence of my mother to her death. Things have been different in many ways and in some ways I've changed how I view loss. At first I grappled with the notion that it was her time and that some cosmic force, over and above myself, dictated the cessation of her life. This kind of took my already conflicted and angry view of that angle to an even more incensed level than usual. I was, "...angry at God for his poor timing and selfish removal of a loved one." I then began to work myself past this phase of my grief after retracing the steps of how my mother decided to live her life. The realization of her recklessness appeared to me like a rude comment. A thought began to revolve in my brain, which said plainly, "Your mother's plans really had no regard for your family; she was out for herself." This made me so angry and I began to cry out of frustration over not seeing this before it was much too late. She never took care of herself medically and left everyone out of loop, plus she never plan for my father's financial future. She just died once she stopped working with the hope that someone would take care of her in the manner that she had expected.
Even though I loved and respected my mother on many levels, this was presumptuous and a shot in the dark. This was the same poor planning that both grandmother and great aunt exercised when they met their ends. Is this because they felt that they had taken care of someone else all of their lives and they had some sort of entitlement? If that is the case, wouldn't that have been presented in a clearer context. The only guess I can make is that they didn't want any room for objection when it came to their "plans." What my mother failed to realize or, at least, failed to care about, was my father's ability to live life independently. This angered me more than anything else, because it leaves me and my sister with the difficult task of finding a way to make my Dad capable of living his own life. I shouldn't let this turn into resentment but, unfortunately, that is the obstacle that I am fraught with at this particular moment.
It's funny though, because I've been dreaming about her recently. It took me a year to let those thoughts to enter my subconscious, but now they've planted themselves there. Mom makes little cameos here and there within my dreams and I'm not particularly sure whether or not it's her voice that I'm hearing. The facial features are the one distinguishing giveaway when it comes to her character. I have wondered whether or not this was my way of finding some solace when it came to her memory. I have also wondered if this was my psyche's way of working out some plan to forgive her. Aside from one dream that she was presented in, she came through in a nonthreatening manner. The one dream or nightmare, if you will, consisted of someone choking me to death. Not sure what that meant, but I can only say that it we completely and utterly terrifying to say the least. Maybe I shouldn't eat close to bedtime. Ha!
Aside from most of my feelings, I have a deep sense of regret and a void that is incapable of being filled. Sometimes I long to tell my mother about the good things that occur in my life, such as my grades or my impending graduation, and she isn't there to listen, to hug me or congratulate me. When I was laden with doubt and needed someone to comfort me, she was absent from my life. I couldn't laugh with her or go to a movie with her. I even miss the occasional argument, as frustrating and unintelligent as they may have been. She used to relish in the notion that she was always correct in her assumptions and maybe that was part of the reason her life was all too brief. I'm beginning to think that she may have felt some kind of invincibility or at least some measure thereof. I'll never be able to answer all of the questions that surround the incident that occurred a year ago. Life is funny, because in one breath you think someone is the rock in your life and in the next they've disappeared like mist in the hot sunlight. Hopefully I can reconcile with most of my emotions and, even though it will always be uncomfortable, I will find some measure of peace. I miss you Mom. I wish you had taken the time to realize how important life is and that giving up shouldn't have been part of the outline.
It has been a year since I've lost the presence of my mother to her death. Things have been different in many ways and in some ways I've changed how I view loss. At first I grappled with the notion that it was her time and that some cosmic force, over and above myself, dictated the cessation of her life. This kind of took my already conflicted and angry view of that angle to an even more incensed level than usual. I was, "...angry at God for his poor timing and selfish removal of a loved one." I then began to work myself past this phase of my grief after retracing the steps of how my mother decided to live her life. The realization of her recklessness appeared to me like a rude comment. A thought began to revolve in my brain, which said plainly, "Your mother's plans really had no regard for your family; she was out for herself." This made me so angry and I began to cry out of frustration over not seeing this before it was much too late. She never took care of herself medically and left everyone out of loop, plus she never plan for my father's financial future. She just died once she stopped working with the hope that someone would take care of her in the manner that she had expected.
Even though I loved and respected my mother on many levels, this was presumptuous and a shot in the dark. This was the same poor planning that both grandmother and great aunt exercised when they met their ends. Is this because they felt that they had taken care of someone else all of their lives and they had some sort of entitlement? If that is the case, wouldn't that have been presented in a clearer context. The only guess I can make is that they didn't want any room for objection when it came to their "plans." What my mother failed to realize or, at least, failed to care about, was my father's ability to live life independently. This angered me more than anything else, because it leaves me and my sister with the difficult task of finding a way to make my Dad capable of living his own life. I shouldn't let this turn into resentment but, unfortunately, that is the obstacle that I am fraught with at this particular moment.
It's funny though, because I've been dreaming about her recently. It took me a year to let those thoughts to enter my subconscious, but now they've planted themselves there. Mom makes little cameos here and there within my dreams and I'm not particularly sure whether or not it's her voice that I'm hearing. The facial features are the one distinguishing giveaway when it comes to her character. I have wondered whether or not this was my way of finding some solace when it came to her memory. I have also wondered if this was my psyche's way of working out some plan to forgive her. Aside from one dream that she was presented in, she came through in a nonthreatening manner. The one dream or nightmare, if you will, consisted of someone choking me to death. Not sure what that meant, but I can only say that it we completely and utterly terrifying to say the least. Maybe I shouldn't eat close to bedtime. Ha!
Aside from most of my feelings, I have a deep sense of regret and a void that is incapable of being filled. Sometimes I long to tell my mother about the good things that occur in my life, such as my grades or my impending graduation, and she isn't there to listen, to hug me or congratulate me. When I was laden with doubt and needed someone to comfort me, she was absent from my life. I couldn't laugh with her or go to a movie with her. I even miss the occasional argument, as frustrating and unintelligent as they may have been. She used to relish in the notion that she was always correct in her assumptions and maybe that was part of the reason her life was all too brief. I'm beginning to think that she may have felt some kind of invincibility or at least some measure thereof. I'll never be able to answer all of the questions that surround the incident that occurred a year ago. Life is funny, because in one breath you think someone is the rock in your life and in the next they've disappeared like mist in the hot sunlight. Hopefully I can reconcile with most of my emotions and, even though it will always be uncomfortable, I will find some measure of peace. I miss you Mom. I wish you had taken the time to realize how important life is and that giving up shouldn't have been part of the outline.
