• 
  
  
  
  

• The Groups

  
  
  
  Take Back the U.T.E.R.U.S.
  
  

  

  
  
  
  

  

  
  
  

• 
  

• Archives

  • August 2008
  • July 2008
  • June 2008
  • May 2008
  • April 2008
  • March 2008
  • February 2008
  • January 2008
  • December 2007
  • November 2007
  • October 2007
  • September 2007
  • August 2007
  • July 2007
  • June 2007
  • May 2007
  • April 2007
  • March 2007
  • February 2007
  • January 2007
  • December 2006
  • November 2006
  • October 2006
  • September 2006
  • August 2006
  • July 2006
  • June 2006
  • May 2006
  • April 2006
  • March 2006
  • February 2006
  • January 2006
  • December 2005
  • November 2005
  • October 2005
  • September 2005

Protected: Looking forward to looking back.

That is one of my Mother’s favorite sayings. Anytime something even remotely shitty happens she chips in with that old adage and a small band aid is placed on whatever is going on and we somehow muddle through. Not always cheerfully, and not always in the best form, but we endure.

This weekend there were many knowing glances exchanged between Mother and myself. It seemed as if every five minutes one of us was catching the other’s eye and trying to project a secret message of care.

If I said this was the worst holiday of my life I would be incorrect. It is the 2nd worst. The worst holiday was the last one with my Grandfather. He was in the hospital, dying, but we all left to go have this insanely massive & over done holiday meal at an aunt’s house (an aunt I have not spoken to in nearly 3 years). Everyone was trying to be chippy and pleasant, but we were all over doing. All over compensating for the drum beat of doom beating within all of our hearts. Grandfather would be dead soon. We all knew it, but we did the best we could. After the evening meal I excused myself to go to the hospital to be with my Grandfather. I couldn’t stand the idea of him being by himself.

He didn’t recognize me when I got to him, but he told me about all of the battles he was fighting. You can learn a lot from a brilliant man that is hallucinating. Some people see 6 foot tall invisible rabbits, but my GF was a soldier in the Franco-Prussian War. It broke my heart not to hear him sing happy birthday in German - something he had done since forever. But it gutted me when he had no idea who I was or why I was in his room. I remember going to bed that evening already in mourning.

This birthday and Christmas was the first one I have had without GM. In fact after some horrible moments I pretty much isolated myself from anyone that might try to cheer me up.

I woke up on my birthday around 7am and went downstairs from my attic bedroom to make some strong coffee. I put out GM’s morning pills and then went back upstairs to watch a few saved episodes of Felicity (it might be wrong how much I loved that show). & while I was watching it I also had the door to my room open - waiting for the trumpet song of Happy Birthday and well wishes.

After 4 episodes of agonizing teen angst (just sleep with Noel already!) I went back downstairs to see if anyone was up. Nope. Not a creature was stirring. Not even the dog. So back upstairs I went, but the pity party was starting to kick off full swing.

Around 1pm I heard Mother make her way to GM’s room. I straightened up thinking that they would soon be calling me downstairs for a snazzy lunch or some gifts. Instead what I heard was GM screaming at Mother. Doors slamming (GM) and then the angry sound of someone (Mother) in the kitchen.

[poor Mother didn't realize that I had already made & had my coffee and she was trying to figure out how to grind up some beans...and let's just say she made quite a mess.]

She clomped up my stairs with apologies for the exploding coffee grinder sounds and then started to cry. A few days ago I had said how I needed some help getting GM to take a good bath. We have been doing washcloth baths for simple hygiene, but it was time for her to have something more thorough. Mother decided that she was going to get GM bathed.

What she didn’t know is that you can not just ask GM to take a bath. Nor can you say something like, “It has been 2 weeks since you have had a real bath.” & saying or alluding to how dirty GM might be is a big no no. It isn’t Mother’s fault. Hell, I did a million wrong things before I found the solution. It is tedious and GM is never happy to take a bath (the fear of getting in & out of the tub is there even when I am in the room with her). But so far the secret is to run a bath at just the right time when she is getting out of bed, then follow her in the bathroom with a pleasant conversation, then sit on the edge of the tub & suddenly discover a nice bath of warm water. Finally one must exclaim how it would be such a waste for the water to go to no use.

No. Mother didn’t know that was the way, and I suppose I should have had her up to date. What Mother did was tell GM to take a bath and so GM went ape shit. She said a lot of cruel and mean things to Mother- nothing that GM hasn’t said to me- but Mother’s ears are not accustomed and it really upset her. Well, fuck it, it is upsetting no matter how many times one gets reamed out by GM.

Mother went back down to her room “to decompress” and I was stuck with checking on GM. By the time that I was able to unlock her bedroom door (I need more practice at it) GM had forgotten that it was Mother that had tried to get her to take a bath and had decided that I was the culprit. I was greeted with a screaming monologue about how GM was NOT five years old! And just who did I think I was being the big boss. I needed a spanking and if she was dressed she would give me one.

Sigh.

I told her I was sorry she was upset but that I hoped she would read the paper with me. She then made it clear that I could bring her a sandwich and a cup of coffee and then I should not bother her for the rest of the day.

Around 3pm Mother woke up from her nap and realized that she hadn’t given me any presents. She came upstairs with an uncorked bottle of Shiraz, a wine glass and two Ray Lamontagne cd’s. She also let me know that there was peppermint ice cream in the freezer whenever I wanted. Then she gave me her copy of a game I had spotted in her room a week ago: the Sims.

After 2 hours of my playing Sims (holy SHIT is it satisfying. I get to control people. Lovely!) I went downstairs to check on GM again. She was reading a book in her room. I asked her if she wanted some “birthday ice cream” and she didn’t say a word to me. I turned on her reading lamp, collected her lunch dishes, and silently left.

At 6pm Mother decided to make me a frozen pizza as my birthday meal. At this point I had consumed the entire bottle of Shiraz and was having a lovely time drunk Simming. I wasn’t hungry, but since Mother went to so much trouble (heh) I tore myself away from my laptop to eat a slice and spend some time crying with Mother.

“She’s gone.” Is what I said. And she knew exactly what I meant. Even if she snaps back we have had a bitter taste of what is to come. Mother & I said goodnight and both promised to try to make Christmas a good day.

Well it wasn’t. GM didn’t believe that it was Christmas. She didn’t even believe that it was December. She refused to come out of her room as she hadn’t gotten anybody anything and she was certain that there were no gifts for her- what with it not being Christmas and everything.

Mother decided we should bring all of the gifts into GM’s room and turn on a live news channel to verify the date. I have to do that a lot with GM on other days as well - most of the time we just leave the tv on CNN headline news which is torture as they repeat every 20 minutes, but at least it keeps GM in the present.

However, GM was not having any of it and with her little scrawny arms she chucked every present she could lift out of her room. The waffle maker from my Uncle was too heavy for her to lift so she pushed it out with her foot. Mother and I just watched her.

I then did something very awful, but I had to do it. I left. I got in the car and drove around the neighborhood. At first I was numb, but then I kept seeing cars ahead of me pull into driveways and get out with gifts and hugs and my heart just sank. No one would be pulling into our driveway to bring merriment and joy. No one was busy in our kitchen making pies or fruited teas.

Instead I had an overwhelmed with reality Mother and an overwhelmed with disease GM. And as absurd as it sounds I wanted to be able to turn my home into a Sim home like the video game. I wanted to be able to monitor the needs of everyone and be able to give them all that they need to be content.

But it is sometimes just too much. Even for me- the girl that needs to please and clean up all of the messes. This weekend I learned in a very harsh manner that I am utterly alone and without anyone to tend to my needs.

I know that in a few years I will look back on this holiday and the couple of years before it and the couple of years after it and always remember this sadness, this empty and yet heavy heart.

Comments

• Great Hosting By: