The last time I heard anything from my mother was when she sent me a long email a few months ago telling me that what I had done to her felt like my father rising from the dead. My abusive, alcoholic father. And that terrible thing that was causing her so much pain? My brother and I had cleaned out her near-Hoarders level house and made it livable.
Actually, we made it immaculate: professionally cleaned, completely repainted and organized from top to bottom.
This wasnโt the first time my mother had laid her years of living with an abusive husband on my shoulders.
This wasnโt the first time my mother had laid her years of living with an abusive husband on my shoulders. Our relationship has been tumultuous ever since my father died, and I realized that I was angry at her, too, for not protecting me from him.
It also didnโt help that I'd ditched religion.
But we made amends when I got pregnant with my oldest daughter nine years ago, and since then, weโve cobbled together a relationship. No religious or political discussions, no references to the sex book for parents that I wrote, which apparently embarrassed her, and all was well.
Or, โwell.โ
Sheโs my mother, after all, and I was not a perfect child, though I certainly wasnโt terrible either, finishing college, finding a job, then completing graduate school. I was a freaking college professor when I got pregnant. But there was my divorce from my first husband, and then my out-of-wedlock baby, which negated everything else wonderful that I had done.
But I put everything aside because I wanted a mom. And I wanted my kids to have a grandmother.
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Then this past summer she ended up in the emergency room, which turned into open-heart surgery and a long, challenging recovery, at which point I decided to clean out her house so sheโd finally be able to sell it and move out like she had been talking about for years.
Unfortunately, she was more attached to the clutter than I thought. But this time I didnโt grin and bear it. And instead, decided to speak my mind, which apparently ended all our communication. Not a new development, but a painful one, nonetheless. Especially since she interpreted that as not talking to my kids, either.
My two youngest girlsโ birthdays passed with no phone calls from their grandmother, though she did send a card and small gift for each of them. I thanked her with photos of my kids in the dresses she bought them, but never received a reply.
She sent them a Christmas gift as well, but didnโt call to wish them a Merry Christmas. Or a Happy New Year.
And even though she didnโt talk to my kids super frequently before our falling out, choosing to send them lovely handwritten notes on a regular basis instead, sheโd at least call them on their birthdays. And on Christmas Day.
I tried to bring her down to visit, for the kidsโ sake, but after sharing her schedule with my husband, who offered to handle her travel plans, she decided not to come.
โToo busy,โ she texted.
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And so Iโve decided to just not try anymore, which feels an awful lot like giving up, not really on our relationship because I have low hopes, but for my children, who I want desperately to have a relationship with their grandmother. As misguided and hurt as I think she is from her terrible past, sheโs an amazing person that my kids should have in their life.
But how long do I make the effort? And then what do I say to my children when they ask why they havenโt talked to their โMimi" and wonder why they havenโt seen her in so long?
Fortunately, that hasnโt happened just yet. And up until now, Iโve kept the candle burning, the possibility that sheโll reach out, even if itโs through my husband (with whom she has spoken and texted before and has no ill-will against) to continue the relationship with my kids.
But now Iโm learning that trying to force something that doesnโt seem to be a priority for her is hurting me. Because in believing that sheโll change her mind, or at least call or text or email me to try to work things out, the pain that all this is causing canโt heal. Or at least, scab over. Itโs an open wound, and I just canโt be a good parent to my kids with it like that.
Instead of wishing for something thatโs not going to happen between me and my mom, Iโm going to use that energy in taking better care of myself and my own issues. And making sure that my own problems never ever come between me and my children. Because unlike my mom, Iโd be completely and utterly devastated. And I can guarantee you that Iโd do every single thing in my power to see my grandchildren and make it right with my daughter.
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