My mother is on her deathbed. Should I tell her goodbye?
Sunday, January 3rd, 2010My mother is dying of hepatitis C. I’ve not talked to this woman for over four years now, and am still repulsed by the idea. Please save your abhorred “of course, she’s your mother!” for after my explanation.
One of my earliest memories as a child was of standing in the line at a Methadone clinic in San Antonio. There was a man that was always there with the the cutest, furriest little dog you’ve ever seen, and my sister and I would always play with it while we waited for the clinic to open. I remember that the people there used to be kind of scary, but being a kid I probably didn’t over think it. Of course my sister and I weren’t there by ourselves. Our mom would wake us up at 4am, to make the three hour trip with her once a month.
I’m trying to think of how to really describe my mother. I could say ” a horrible person”, and you might picture the most horrible person you know, and liken her to that. But that’s not right, not by half. I guess it will have to do though.
My dad died of liver cirrhosis when I was seven. I don’t remember very much about him, but I know I loved him. I can’t help but feel that my life would have been a lot different as a child had he not died so early. He would have stood up to my mother, and somehow would have helped her conquer her demons. The list of the disgusting, selfish, and cruel things she did to us is a lengthy one. I’ll not get into them all, but I feel a few examples are necessary to illustrate my problem.
She once walked into our living room, where I was hanging out with some friends, naked. She was high out of her mind on some kind of pills, she kept so many that I don’t know which. She was screaming. It’s not an easy memory for me to force myself to dredge up from the dark recesses of my mind. Suffice it to say I don’t think I’ve ever felt as humiliated, infuriated, and hopeless as I did at that moment.
She was constantly directing a stream of profanity at my sister and I. We were often told that our existence was a mistake. Also, “fucking little sluts” was used a lot, particularly after my first boyfriend started spreading the lie that I had cheated on him. Somehow she heard about this, and she threw it in my face on a fairly regular basis that I was “a fat cheating slut”. That was her other favorite, the fat thing. I guess back then I was kind of chunky. Hearing “Fat little bitch” and “Why don’t you just go stuff your face some more?” was enough motivation for me to lose 40lbs in one summer. Of course, I lost it because I developed an eating disorder.
The only thing provided as far as basic essentials to life for my sister and I was a roof over our heads and clean water. That’s more than some people have, I know, but why have two children if that’s all you’ve got to offer? There was never food of any kind to speak of in our house. We ate our free lunch at school, and supper with our aunt, who, thank goodness, lived right next door. Things like shampoo, deodorant, tampons even… they weren’t provided. Once again we depended on the kindness of my aunt for these. She was extremely poor, but she helped us, and I’m grateful for it.
I think you probably get the idea. She is a drug addict, a drunk, and a sad example of humankind.
When I was 17 my friend and I moved in together. I was still going to high school, but we had our own little apartment that we paid for working fast food jobs. Today I live in a huge luxury apartment with my boyfriend of two years. I love him dearly, and this life I’ve created for myself. I’ve never looked back. I’m happy.
Or was. This dilemma has been plaguing me for nearly a year now. I’ve got the most extreme set of morals of anyone I’ve ever met. What she did to us was wrong, in every sense of the word. The question is, is someday am I going to regret not making peace with her? I can’t for the life of me see how I would regret it, but still, as her life is ending, I’m running out of time to be certain.
To those of you that would say, “Addiction is a disease, it’s not her fault”, to you I say, bullshit. I’ve conquered an addiction to methamphetamine in my teenage years, clinical depression, and an eating disorder. I’ve done it without drugs, therapy, or anything other than my own determination. And I don’t have kids. What more motivation should a person need to clean up their act than having two kids that need a mother?
Another factor to consider is that I’m an atheist, and a proud one. I am not in the least bit interested in changing that. I can’t just forgive her for the sake of forgiveness, thinking that she will be judged after her time here is done. No. I believe people need to be held accountable for their actions here and now.
I’m not looking for sympathy here, just an unbiased answer. And please, answer as if you didn’t have a higher power to turn to.