First, I want to send out a HUGE message of gratitude to all of you who commented on the passing of "the mother" in my last post. It meant and still means the world to me. I truly value each of you for your insight, compassion, understanding and encouragement.
How did I get so blessed? Sometimes I'm still baffled as to why anyone would care. But you do and I'm very grateful.
If you're an introspective type like I am, the passing of a family member or loved one (or both) can leave you with a lot of sorting to do. In an effort to squash any self-delusion, one must take an honest look at themselves and take responsibility for the actions (or inactions) that may have contributed to the toxicity of the relationship.
I'll always wonder if I should have done more to foster a relationship with the woman that birthed me. I'm certain that I could have, had I ignored my feelings of rejection and accepted unconditionally the aloof role that the mother desired to play in my life.
This is what my sister did. She loved the mother in spite of the chasm that existed between them. She cared. She displayed unconditional love towards the frail woman lying on her deathbed. She was willing to put aside her own desires and decades of pain for the sake of being there for her mother. Pretty dang heroic if you ask me. And what did she get for it? Not a whole lot.
I'm not that kind of person. I'm selfish. I need authenticity. I needed the mother to take initiative and clear the air. I needed understanding as much as I needed to understand. I needed to know why. I needed to open the wounds and clean them out rather than massage the scar tissue.
Is either method right or wrong? I don't know. I'm just hobbling along, doing what seems right to me. But maybe I'm blinded by self-delusion.