Which Stage Am I On?
I knew it would happen sooner or later.
It's grief.
Fuckin' grief.
The pisser about all this is that I'll be floating through the stages of grief for years to come. I've been dealing with it since Mom started to lose her memory and I see no end in sight. God- I hope there 's no end in sight. I'm not ready for that.
I was in complete denial when Mom started leaving things places. Jackets, hats, keys, gloves, and the like seemed to disappear like smoke around her. I got really scared when I learned that she forgot about my brother being in the Navy. For a long time it was easy to blame it all on my Dad. Let's face it, he's not the easiest or most forgiving guy to live with. I think even he would admit to that. After all, things started really going wrong just a few short years after her cancer was gone. How could she possibly have something else? Wasn't cancer enough disease for any one person to have? Didn't she fill the quota already? It had to be her bizarre living situation and Dad was clearly to be blamed for that. Right?
I truly believe that things even out somewhere down the line. This will make some sense to me in the grand scheme of things someday. But for now, I just want to drink and cry. I guess this is the begining of acceptance? Well, I've never accepted any fate without resistance, so now begins the screaming, crying and clawing. Stupid fucking Alzheimers.
Clearly, I knew it in January and I cherish the fact that I had that opportunity to be with her then while she could still communicate with me and I could still feel like the things I said landed with her. I got to tell her that she was the number 1 influence in my life and the most important person to me. I got to tell her about all the things that she taught me and that I hope to teach my son. How many people have that opportunity? I did. I got it and I took advantage of it, to the best of my ability. I really have no regrets about it.
But I'm still fucking pissed that it had to happen to her.
She was just getting to a point where I felt she might assert herself. I'm telling you, I was rooting for her to strike out on her own and, in some small way I got the sense that she was thinking about it. I can honestly say that if it was a choice between having me, keeping her tied to the service of her husband and children and NOT having me, setting her free to find herself- I would have chosen not to be born. Of course, I know that she would have chosen to have me because that is just the kind of woman she is, but if the choice were up to me I would lay down in a heartbeat. Without a single doubt.
But that's all just a fantasy. I'm here. She's here and we have to go on the best we can. There is definitely something to be learned in this experience, but so far I am not finding that inner strength that I once believed I had. No. Inside me is a sad, scared, morose little girl who wants her mommy. I hear that feeling never goes away.
Now, don't that just break your heart?
It's grief.
Fuckin' grief.
The pisser about all this is that I'll be floating through the stages of grief for years to come. I've been dealing with it since Mom started to lose her memory and I see no end in sight. God- I hope there 's no end in sight. I'm not ready for that.
I was in complete denial when Mom started leaving things places. Jackets, hats, keys, gloves, and the like seemed to disappear like smoke around her. I got really scared when I learned that she forgot about my brother being in the Navy. For a long time it was easy to blame it all on my Dad. Let's face it, he's not the easiest or most forgiving guy to live with. I think even he would admit to that. After all, things started really going wrong just a few short years after her cancer was gone. How could she possibly have something else? Wasn't cancer enough disease for any one person to have? Didn't she fill the quota already? It had to be her bizarre living situation and Dad was clearly to be blamed for that. Right?
I truly believe that things even out somewhere down the line. This will make some sense to me in the grand scheme of things someday. But for now, I just want to drink and cry. I guess this is the begining of acceptance? Well, I've never accepted any fate without resistance, so now begins the screaming, crying and clawing. Stupid fucking Alzheimers.
Clearly, I knew it in January and I cherish the fact that I had that opportunity to be with her then while she could still communicate with me and I could still feel like the things I said landed with her. I got to tell her that she was the number 1 influence in my life and the most important person to me. I got to tell her about all the things that she taught me and that I hope to teach my son. How many people have that opportunity? I did. I got it and I took advantage of it, to the best of my ability. I really have no regrets about it.
But I'm still fucking pissed that it had to happen to her.
She was just getting to a point where I felt she might assert herself. I'm telling you, I was rooting for her to strike out on her own and, in some small way I got the sense that she was thinking about it. I can honestly say that if it was a choice between having me, keeping her tied to the service of her husband and children and NOT having me, setting her free to find herself- I would have chosen not to be born. Of course, I know that she would have chosen to have me because that is just the kind of woman she is, but if the choice were up to me I would lay down in a heartbeat. Without a single doubt.
But that's all just a fantasy. I'm here. She's here and we have to go on the best we can. There is definitely something to be learned in this experience, but so far I am not finding that inner strength that I once believed I had. No. Inside me is a sad, scared, morose little girl who wants her mommy. I hear that feeling never goes away.
Now, don't that just break your heart?
posted by Bree O'Connor at 12:20 AM
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