She died almost five months ago and I cannot find resolution in my heart or mind. On Mother's Day, I sent her half a dozen of chocolate covered strawberries in the mail. She called me on Monday to thank me. She died on Friday. The last time I saw her was back in March on her birthday when we took her out for dinner. A quick cell phone picture and a strawberry plant that kept blooming long after she died, were all that was left of that day.
I'm fairly certain that she overdosed herself, but am not sure whether it was intentional, accidental or a mixture of both, however, still a selfish act of a selfish person. I am angry, hurt, and disgusted that a person who was my mother didn't realize the path of destruction that she left behind. The death certificate says that she died of natural causes, but there was so much there and no autopsy to get a definitive answer. She was cremated and now resides in a small black box that holds her ashes.
We were left behind, having to pick up all of the pieces of a shattered life with shards of broken promises and dreams that never seemed to fit together. The different levels of importance seemed to be attached to those things or people who held her in high esteem or recognized her, but not for the value of having done something for helping someone else, but the good personal feelings that she got from being recognized or patted on the back. She held on to everything that meant nothing and let everything go of that and those who had the greatest significance; an act of defiance or desperation that I will never comprehend. While I stand back and want the love was given to strangers so freely, I never seem to find it from her in my own life. She haphazardly shoved it away, picking and choosing the best of it all and leaving the rest behind like the pieces in a box of chocolates that didn't have the right filling that you get on Valentine's Day.
Pawing my way back through the stages of 61 years, I am so torn because I see the lives of these separate people that were mutually exclusively all her. At some a some point, these all converged and the one who came out on top was the one that seemed to see me as a hindrance. The more that I learn of her childhood, I understand why she ended up the person that she was, and am even more confounded that the strength that I saw in her from time to time was not used for a greater vehicle to a bigger life. I do know that a big life does not mean that one has to move to find greatness, cure cancer, split the atom, or create a famous work of art. I also know that many people who have chosen to live small lives, are often very happy and contented. But a life that is spent inside of a house everyday being a voyeur instead of a participant seems like the antithesis of a life well-lived. It is not my place to stand in judgement of my mother as that is God's right, but I sometimes feel is my right because of the tumultuous relationship that we had. However, I am on a journey of trying to understand the circumstances that led us to this path. I don't know if I will ever have peace without this understanding and closure. But I will go on and know that I have lived a different life, not in spite of her, but because I wanted to not be like her. Even typing this acknowledgement brings me deeper sadness.
I believe in a God that is just and good while having explicit expectation for us in our lives. He is a selfish god, as He has the right to be. While knowing all of this, I too know that there is a lesson to be learned, gleaned, and a resolve to be inherited through these iron sharpening iron times that must be personally experienced. I am perplexed or am trying too hard to allow this to happen in the due time in which it is supposed to happen. I am an "answers" person; if there is problem that needs to be fixed, you fix it by finding an answer and moving on. Unfortunately, this mindset doesn't apply to real the existential questions of life or dealing with people in general. I have produced an internal fallacy that has deceptively worked in times of crisis of my life (which has mostly been all of it) and now that I finally realize that I was never in control to begin with, there is another type of grief that has to be acknowledged and rectified.
There always has been some type of crisis, conflict, or dilemma that was immediate and life altering in our lives. I never understood how many kids had things so easy and our lives were so hard. I knew that a lot of kids that I went to school with never had the experience of heating their own water in an electric kettle every night to wash up in a sink because of not having running water in a house for over a year. Sneaking out at night in my dad's truck to a fresh water spring to fill 5 gallon buckets of free water to flush a toilet and wash up became a daily occurrence that eventually did not seem out of the ordinary. Not having friends over in the house or letting anyone know that we never had water also became ordinary. In gathering items for a recent yard sale, I couldn't touch the electric kettle. It would be too heavy to lift and would open a wound that I might not be able to close again, so I left it on the shelf to be a relic of the past.
Forgiveness is a place that is supposed to be the paradise that comes after climbing a dastardly and incredibly harsh mountain full of sharp rocks and imminent danger. I know that forgiveness is supposed to be as easy as just saying it out now, but my faith is too bruised to take the easy way out. Right now, I am broken and weakened, but still holding and pressing on to find the lush land of forgiveness. Perhaps, my own sin is in the way of this process, but it's my path to sojourn. The truth lies somewhere in between here and there and it is possible that I may not need to know all of the details to arrive there. For what I am certain is that which every path is chosen, there will be difficulty and grief. Too much has transpired for there not to be. I hope that it is true that what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. My storehouse of strength and endurance is a bit on the short side as of late.
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