Grief is a beast and Resentment its worst bedfellow

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Two years ago November 30th, my Mother left this world.

I held my heart still and quiet as the days approached,

wanting to be present, to remember whatever it was that would come to mind.

I am trying to leave my heart open,

to reach back to some moment

when my Mother and I shared something of value.

Her death was long in coming.

Her death was Hard.

Her alcoholism stains.

In the days leading up to the anniversary of her death,

I remembered that the day of her death was also the birthday

of a long ago Love.

I let that sit for some time.

Birth

Death

Love and ……

I called my old Love to wish him well and our conversation lasted for hours.

Our friendship has stood the test of time and distance.

Our friendship lasts.

Later that day I remembered a strange conversation I had once with my mother.

She had not known my Love well.

 She and I were not close.

Any conversation with my mother was an odd thing.

She did not call or return my calls.

One time she did.

Years ago I picked up the phone and it was my mother.

“I saw him today. He was in the office. I thought you would want to know that he is doing well.”

I was stunned that she even remembered him.

She went on.

“I told him thank you.”

“For what?”    I asked.

“I told him thank you for helping my daughter save her life.

I told him that I was grateful to him and always would be.”

I was silent on the other end of the phone.

This Love was the Love that changed my life.

She was right.

He was the one who said to me,

“Walk away from the drugs.  You are an incredible woman. Just walk away.”

How did she know this? My father knew.

Of course Daddy Knew.

But Mommy?

Mommy heard my father say something about me.

Not only did she hear him, she remembered and it mattered.

It mattered to her that my Love had made a difference in my life;

That my life had been saved.

I remembered this conversation decades later with Love.

My mother did hear something about me.

She made note one time.

If there was one time,

Were there others?

Grief is a beast and Resentment its worst bedfellow.

I am living each moment

watching

the two dance and wander.

I am living each moment,

Waiting

for them to let go.

Peace,

Jen

***********

I have been away from here for some time.

I miss you all.

If an ad appears here please disregard. I will attend to this asap.

~ by Step On a Crack on December 9, 2013.

8 Responses to “Grief is a beast and Resentment its worst bedfellow”

  1. A beautiful post, Jen. I’ve missed you while you were absent. Thank you for being here.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I missed your writing. This is sad but real x

    Like

  3. Poignant. Sorry for your loss. Nice to see you back. 😉

    Like

  4. Good.
    Really good, Jen.
    I’m getting to this point with my mom, too. Amazing how there was loving concern, but almost no ability to express it. What a loss, but what a thing to gain…

    Like

  5. My friend, I’m so glad to see you on Facebook and feel the connection hasn’t been lost but your words here….so very good to be reading them again. You are a lovely writer and the maturity and healing of your words today hold so much. To me they hold hope and what a gift to carry at this time of year especially. xo

    Like

  6. This is lovely and sweet and sad and so perfectly you. All that you have become is the result of all that you have gone through. The great news is that you went through it – and came out the other side, wiser, more loving, and with an open heart. Peace to you, my friend. And to your mother’s spirit, that even tattered, still glimmers.

    Like

  7. This was beautiful. I am sorry to learn about the untimely loss of your mother. I didn’t lose mine to alcoholic dementia but I almost lost her to cirrhosis of the liver. My mom had a liver transplant the day after Christmas in 2012. She is still here with us, today, sober and getting stronger.
    Your post was truly lovely. You remind me that we all have a purpose here, together, as we try to crush the demons which are always lingering around alcohol and the choices some feel confined to make.

    Like

  8. The complexities of grief seem never-ending. I lost my mother just a few months before you lost your mother. There are days I think I’ve completely healed; other days I’m blindsided by grief and anger. My mother was not an alcoholic but was severely mentally ill. I can closely relate to children of alcoholics due to the erratic and abusive behavior. Thanks for sharing all the feelings that one experiences with loss: particularly loss of a parent who was not well.

    Like

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