I called my mother today to check up on her. About a week or so ago my Grandfather moved in with her while he recuperates from back surgery. I'm amazed by the amount of her patience, and her capacity to give. I really should have driven home last weekend and the weekend before to help her with his care. But I just can't.
Grandpa is very confused right now due to his cocktail of oxicontin and morphine. This morning mom came into the living room, where Grandpa sleeps now, he was sitting on the couch, naked, and his soiled pants were on the living room floor. He looked up at her and said, "We better hurry up or we're going to be late for the movie."
I know she needs help right now, but I'm so afraid in his confusion he is going to talk to me like he did when I was a child...
"Remember you promised to never tell anyone about us. They won't understand and they will be very angry with you. This is our secret."
I hear these words still till this day. And I just don't know how I would react if I hear them from his lips again, now. My stomach is turning just typing this. The words stir memories of his pleas to be silent while his thick, dry hands manipulated my belt buckle and pushed my pants around my ankles. It pisses me off I spent many years smoking so many drugs to create a fog around my past, that these memories survived; shook off my attempts of destroying their synaptic map. Sure my good memories faded into cerebral nooks, but these deep rooted images stayed. I think I've finally realized they are as much a part of me as any other memory, more so even...but it has taken years to get here. And 'here' is built on spun glass cellular membranes...fragile. I'm not yet convinced of any derived strength from all of this. Just a different point of view...and a smidgen more cynicism than the average dude...but I've earned it. Damn it.
I need to get over the idea of me being the only character in this story unfolding. Mom has never not helped a family member. She is always there for all of us. And I need to be there for her. Luckily at this point in our relationship, Grandpa and mine, if he does cross any sort of line with me I'm not above telling him to "Fuck Off." You know? I mean he is powerless in this situation. A confused mind in a broken body. I suppose really anything that would transpire at this point would come from a place of desperation. I don't want to take joy in his crumbling...and I don't. I genuinely am able to compartmentalize the relationship we had in the past with the one we have now. Honestly, we mostly get along quite well, all molestation aside. Outside of Oprah episodes I think this is probably what happens in families of sexual abuse. People inherently want to overcome, and we're damn good at denial...so there you have it.
These lessons get complicated. But I'm trying. Looking at it from every angle. When he's gone the closure will be one-sided, and that might not be enough.
This is a photo taken of Mom while she was on a cruise a couple of years ago. I love this pic of her.
8 comments:
"Honestly, we mostly get along quite well, all molestation aside"
Yeah, people struggle with that one in my life as well. But it's true. We find a way to live inside of the maelstrom without drowning.
I hate that I know the whole story.
Also, too goddamn true about those fog inducing drug coma's. They got rid of Disneyland but the sound of pajamas being ripped away? Nope. That one plays on a loop track with a nice beat that's easy to dance to.
It would seem from this post that the strength of mom is indeed, genetic. I would also venture to guess she passed along a good helping of courage and honesty.
I realize you're probably long past the point in your life where you need to hear drivel like this from a stranger, but I'm giving it to you anyway.
I just hopped over here from Hat's blog. Wow. There's not a lot I can say except how in awe I am at your trying so hard to do what is right by your mother, trying to come to terms what he did to you without letting the searing pain of it consume everything else you also are - a good son, a kind, caring, thoughtful, articulate, and yes, strong person. I wish you good things.
Thanks for all of your support. I do draw strength from it.
That's a great photo indeed!
And having a tiny bit of experience with some of the same issues too...I'm wishing you well with the lessons, whatever they might be.
your story is really breath-taking!
How would thought that such a thing like that was happening?
I'm glad to know that your mom is strong enough to overcome life troubles.
That is awful to hear and I hope you're coping.
Best wishes
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