Mama said, “No. The circle’s already broken.”
I let it go. We ended up with some nice music, including a really good Faith Hill song my niece wanted.
But I still keep thinking about that circle, and I’m not sure it’s broken. At least not in the way she thinks it is.
I hadn’t been home in 15 years when Daddy died. I knew my mother didn’t accept my “lifestyle”. I keep telling everyone that I can’t afford a “lifestyle”, but that doesn’t seem to keep them from making assumptions about me that they shouldn’t. I don’t know if that’s what Mama was doing or if it was mostly in my mind.
Needless to say, we just didn’t talk much, and when we did, it was not always comfortable. She didn’t tell me important things that I had to find out about from my older sister. Like my nephew getting arrested for shoplifting. Like how much my niece despises her mother. Like my other nephew (in middle school) getting caught taking his mother’s pot to school.
When Daddy started getting sick, Mama kept on editing information. And in retrospect, I think it may be that she was only telling me the part of reality that she was able to accept at that time.
She was only beginning to accept the reality of Daddy’s condition when she was sitting in the CCU waiting room at Methodist Hospital in Memphis. She had always known that Daddy could die soon, but she had never accepted it.
I can’t judge, because I hadn’t either.
In those few days, we went through a whole bunch together that I never thought we would ever have to. It made me appreciate her more, and her appreciate me more, I think.
She got to see me at my best. She saw me honoring my father and making sure that he died with dignity. I set off a fire storm when I insisted that we cut off life support a day before she wanted to. When I her told why, she agreed: he was hemorrhaging all over and getting worse. His bruising had gotten much worse, and he was bleeding from his eyes. He was likely to bleed out in his stomach over night.
I didn’t want him to die alone. And he very well could have.
Faced with the facts, she agreed.
We proceeded, and Daddy died very shortly after being taken off life support.
But he was not alone. He was surrounded by his family: a loving wife, 3 children, 2 grandchildren, a sister, brother-in-law, a brother and a sister-in-law.
It was hard, but it was what he wanted. And what we wanted, as well.
She also saw the bad side of me, my temper when I get riled and my habit of cursing anywhere, even in church. (She swatted me for that one. I may be 42, but she’s still my Mama. She has the right.)
Since then, we’ve become closer than I think we’ve ever been.
My older sister and I aren’t really speaking right now because of some things that happened on that trip home. She was inconsiderate and I was irritable. Not a good combo.
Mama doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like to see her children divided. She said that “sometimes, that stuff just ain’t that important.”
I agree.
I’ve offered an olive branch to my sister. I got a jar pickled olives back.
I told her we needed to bury the hatchet because it was hurting Mama. Let bygones be bygones. No one blames the other for anything.
Her response was a very terse email: “Okay. Sounds fine to me.”
That’s the last I’ve heard.
And I keep coming back to that circle. And, Mama, you’re right. It is broken. Just not in the way you thought.
The arc that goes from me to Mama is stronger than it ever has been. We talk about things that we wouldn’t have 6 months ago. We’re honest, and she tells me how hard it is to be alone. I tell her that I know, because I’ve been alone, too. Rich and I only had 5 years together, and she and Daddy were very close to their 50th anniversary.
The arc from me to my older sister is mostly a dotted line, if a line at all.
On this one, I’ll side with my mother: some things are more important than petty disputes.
The circle should not be broken.
Right now, the closest thing we have to a circle is a ring of fire.
Thank heavens for Johnny Cash. He’s always there when you need him.
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