Seventeen

           Avoid the avoiders!  What a catch phrase!  To think that’s what she’d been doing. The evidence was blatantly apparent as she wrote the letter to mom.  It was an illusion of safety, avoid conflict or whatever threatened her sense of peace, better yet tranquility.  It felt like she’d come full circle. Once again dealing with peace at any cost not being peace. 

            How in heaven’s name was she to recognize the avoiders so she could avoid them.  Sometimes it seemed blatantly obvious, other times obtuse.  A classic example of avoidance was when Mom and Debe got into their slap fest and she’d dashed to a safe haven, her room. 

She protected her heart at all costs. Now was the time to uproot and tear down those things that so easily beset her.  The cost was being honest with herself. Regardless of how strongly her feelings wanted to deny the need too. Afterall her siblings were able too.

“Get on with it, old girl,” she admonished herself on day six of letter writing:

Guess what mother, Jennifer called. She described how she felt as GIDDY! She kept repeating; Free at last! Free at last! It took a couple minutes for her to calm down. She continually expressed how happy she was. When she finally calmed down, she stated; “I’ve waited my whole life for this! I’m free of her! I don’t ever have to talk to or have contact with her again!” To say she was ecstatic is an understatement!

       I asked what happened? She explained you called and said you were moving back to Quartzsite, AZ. She asked if you remembered the deal the two of you made when you left Oregon. That as long as you stayed at Anne’s she’d stay in contact with you. But, if you left Anne’s that’s it, she’s done.

       You justified your move with typical excuses. Anne doesn’t have time for you. She came home from work and spent all her time on the iPad. You’re too confined at her house. No one played games with you, etc.  etc.  etc. Same ole song and dance we’ve heard time and time and time again from you. 

       Jennifer confronted and reminded you of the deal you’d made.  She said she talked to you like she would one of her first graders. At one point she told you; ‘Mom you’re an adult and can do a you want.’ You got huffy and adamantly said; “Yes! And you can’t tell me what to do.” Jennifer repeated the consequence for your choosing to move. She was done and wanted no contact.

       You carried on about how she sounded just like Sam and Melissa, and something about the letter I wrote. Jennifer told you it had nothing to do with us. You made the choice to break the agreement the two of you had. The conversation ended with Jennifer calmly saying goodbye, and have a good life mom because I don’t want to hear from you ever again, nor will you be hearing from me.

       There is overwhelming relief in her voice. She is finally done with you! The only thing she ever wants to hear about you is that you’ve died. Just so she won’t have to wonder as time goes by. She hopes you have a service. There are a few things she would want to say that people probably wouldn’t want to hear, but she wants them to know.

       We talked for an hour, there was a lightness in Jennifer that hasn’t been there in years. I call and tell Sam what happened. A month prior you and him had gotten into it on the phone. You brought up the subject of how I shoved you to the floor and fractured your back. He figured ok you want to go there let’s go there.

       He didn’t defend me but tried to get you to see and admit how you contributed to the whole incident, when you lost your balance and fell. He said he tried four times and on the fourth time lost it. Why because you refused to admit you could have done anything wrong. 

       You kept talking about how crazy I was and the wild look in my eyes. Sam stated if that wasn’t a normal way for me to behave what could you have done to contribute to it. You refused to acknowledge any culpability. On the fourth try he said he lost it and came unglued.

       He let you know graphically and in no uncertain terms he was done with you. That until you could admit what you may have done wrong, he didn’t want to ever talk with you again. He was quite upset for having lost it to that degree. He hates it when he acts like such an asshole. He made a very telling comment, “Why do I keep someone in my life that causes me to sin that much!”

       He texted you that when you are ready to admit what you may have done wrong feel free to contact him. Otherwise he doesn’t want to hear from you. By Mother’s Day he relented a bit and sent you a mother day text where you replied, “Thank-you son, Love you.”

       When I tell him about your move and what Jennifer had done.  He is are fed up as well and text’s you while we’re talking about what a mistake you’re making and he too wants no contact with you. From my perspective it seems so easy for them. And here I am struggling with this to the point I’m going to counseling. It causes me to second guess myself and wonder if I’m making a mountain out of a molehill.

       By the time I go to counseling, a couple days later, I am distraught and in tears. I ask her if she thinks I’m making more out of this problem that is ‘mother’ than I should. We talk and by the time we’re done I feel better. She helped me see that because of how I carried the burden of you, its freed Sam and Jennifer to emotionally detach from you. My no longer carrying that burden freed them to physically be done with you. They had ‘honored’ you because after all you’re their mother, but their hearts were not in it.

       I on the other hand am sixty-three years old and just now coming to terms with the emotional trauma I’ve quenched concerning you. Depression had become a very nasty coping mechanism. It created a sense of guilt that is not my burden to bear. I struggle with letting myself be okay with being done with you. With the right help and guidance, I’m getting there. 

       I want to “get well” as my counselor calls it. I need to for oh so many reasons, that time will reveal. I need this for my well-being not yours. I have no misgivings that you will change in this lifetime. But I can and will with all my heart mind soul and strength let Christ set the captive in me free.  In Jesus name!

      Melissa lifted fingers from the keyboard. There was so much more she could write about. The letter was as complete as she could make it, for now.  Line upon line, it would be interesting to see what the next lines would be, only time would tell. 

            She stood and arched her back as she gazed out the window at the dark gray sky.  Nature had a way of reflecting the recesses of her soul. There were dark places she avoided and wasn’t ready to explore.  It was important, at times like this, to apply the fruit of the spirit to herself.  Patience, kindness and gentleness as her heart wrestled with the trauma of losing something she never really had, a mother’s nurturing unconditional love.

Sixteen

            Day five!  Melissa really wanted to finish the letter to mom.  She was ready to be done, but needed to be patient with the process.  The letter reminded her that regardless of how ingrained it was in her DNA she was not responsible for her mother’s choices.  It was a major paradigm shift to transition away from that overwhelming sense of responsibility. She didn’t want to continue to be defined by what she would, could or should do or be doing for her mother. 

‘Love covered a multitude of sins;’ wasn’t the mantra she needed running through her head.  No more cover up.  It was time to reveal the stark reality of her mother! She began to write;

Here’s another example of how I know telling you things would not have done any good!  When we lived in Juneau you dated Ed Tryon. It’s three years later and we live in Anchorage. I was eighteen, worked at Duty Free, lived at home. You called and said I needed to come home after work because Ed was in town and wanted to see us kids. I could barely remember Ed, but whatever, I figured it would just be a quick hi, which it was.

       The next morning, I got a call at work from Ed. He wanted to know if I could meet him for lunch.  We arranged to meet at the airport restaurant.  I was in a quandary about why he’d want to meet me. I figured it must have something to do with you.  We met, had a pleasant enough lunch. It was more than a bit odd because he never really talked about you. He kept asking about me.

       Then came the bombshell. He said he’d kept track of when I’d turn eighteen. He knew I’d turn out to be a beautiful young woman.  He wanted to know if he’d stand a chance with my dating him.  He’s a man in his late-thirties and I’m eighteen. To say I was stunned and shocked is an understatement!  I told him no and I was seriously dating someone.  He was disappointed but had wanted to at least try. He adamantly told me that if I became free to let him know.

       As soon as I got off work, I headed to Debe’s and told her what happened. She got mad and said your mother needs to know this. I frantically replied no it wouldn’t do any good. She insisted; off we went. We told you what happened. You refused to believe it, accused us of never liking Ed. We were trying to ruin any chance you may have with him again. It was an ugly confrontation. I, as usual, shut up, you and Debe continued to argue. That’s why I felt safe with Debe she always had my back! You on the other hand mother never had my back.

       It was always about how you felt. I recall when Jennifer’s heel practically got cut off in bicycle spokes. I stood by the edge of her bed in the emergency room. You stood in the corner. Wringing your hands because of how it made you ‘feel’ watching her get stitched up.

       Your way of consoling me as I struggled with infertility was to say; “The worlds too wicked to bring any more kids into it!” What made you think that was an appropriate thing to say to your heart-broken daughter?! 

       When Nicole died of a Heroin overdose; you called sobbing, wanting me to call and talk to the police because you couldn’t. Time and again you turned to me to do what you couldn’t. Guess what?!  I don’t want nor have to do that anymore. 

I get triggered and want to scream when people, thinking their helping to fix us, want to tell me our story and not listen to mine.  Afterall you’re an old lady and its supposed to be the children’s responsibility to make allowances for their parent’s ‘shortcomings.’ Once again, it’s a reminder of how, no matter what, it’s ultimately about you and how you feel.

       The move here was totally your idea. I have no regrets helping you move! I know I did everything I could. What I do regret is I let my guard down. Not because I didn’t think you would never want to move again. I expected you to. What I didn’t expect was to be usurped by people who couldn’t tell you no. I’m angry that you and they presumed I shouldn’t be upset or angry.

       I am livid at the lies you’ve told about me. You threw me under the bus for your compulsive desires. Changed the narrative to fit your twisted version of the story. As a result, a switch got flipped in me that can’t be flipped back. I wrestle with how relieved I am to not have you in my life.  Because it is so out of character for me, it scares me to feel good about saying; I’m done mother! 

       I emphatically never want to talk to you again! But sometimes my gentle soul does. Because I miss my mom. Then I realize it’s not you I want, but what a mom represents. In the past there was always a way to get past the BS and reconnect. This time you committed the ultimate act of abandonment. You’ve spread lies and made it impossible for unconditional reconciliation. 

A parent’s betrayal, regardless of one’s age, is heart wrenching.  For the first time in my life, I have the freedom to feel and express what I’ve kept bottled up all these years. I can acknowledge that you were the biggest contributor to the desperate feelings of loneliness I experienced as a child. Because of you I learned how to quite masterfully emotionally detach. I don’t have to quench emotions to keep the peace at any cost, because it’s the right thing to do.

       The right thing to do is express the crappiness you’ve caused in my life and what its effects have been on me emotionally. For instance, a light bulb went off recently when I recalled the female problem, I had at eighteen. You poo pooed it, insisted I didn’t need to go to no doctor.  I finally went when the pain was excruciating, I had no choice. Years later I would learn that’s what caused me to not be able to have kids.  Whereas if, as a concerned mother should have been, you would have taken me to the doctor maybe just maybe it would have been caught in time and I would have had kids! 

       I recognize there’s an unintended culpability there.  And I’m not blaming you. But now I have the freedom to recognize it as another example of how you put what you wanted above your child’s needs. I made allowances for you my whole life. No more! I’m done!

       Your actions have left me dumbfounded more times than I care to count. I am not devastated; I really don’t want to waste my time feeling that. I am mournful and knowing that helps alleviate the engulfing depression.

       I wish it hadn’t happened the way it did, but it did. I am remorseful but not ashamed. You want me to feel ashamed, because I didn’t want you to be happy and support your move, hence the lies.  Just as you did to me as a child; you are the one who needs a bar of soap stuck in your mouth! This letter is my bar of soap to you.

I’m choosing to no longer be double minded when it comes to your narcissism. I don’t have to make allowances for it which only leads to an instability in all my ways. My yes needs to be yes and my no needs to be no! I’m saying YES to getting well and NO to you in my life!

Figuratively I am cutting that cord between you and I. It was done physically a year ago. I need to cut the unhealthy emotional cord you ingrained in me. When I work through this process, I’ll be able to say ‘it is finished’ rather than just ‘I’m done!’

“Whew!” Melissa said, “Another day of unburied emotional baggage!”

She saved the document. It wasn’t quite finished yet. A sense of well-being settled into her soul. A renewed sense of hope hinted at the effectiveness of exposing buried pain. It didn’t matter that the letter would never be sent, only that it brought healing to the broken places deep in her heart. Places only God could reach as she stepped out in obedient faith and did the work to get well.

Fifteen

          “Day four!”  Melissa said as she sat at her desk and opened the laptop.  While it booted up, she recalled the number of phone calls she’d received since morning.  She’d never been able to figure out why Mondays ended up being such phone a day.  One after another, six all together.  She’d debated whether to even attempt continuing her mother letter, but she’d sleep better if she at least tried. After she formatted a new page her fingers danced across the keyboard. 

I’m done mother! What a statement to feel I have to make. It saddens me. I’m willing but not able to shed tears over you. Am I finally come to a place of admitting you were a lousy mother rather than justify your actions with “that’s just the way you are?” 

      A common feeling of the eldest child, and I’m no exception, is that problems in the family are my fault. But our problems are not my fault, it’s your fault mom you weren’t there for me as a mother should be.  I tried to make up for your shortcomings in my siblings’ lives, mine as well.

      I choose not to have a “victim” mentality, despite your failings as a mother. For my benefit, not yours, here are a few of the less than motherly actions on your part.

      When I turned fourteen one of my birthdays presents was a bottle of wine! Who does that? You would send Deb and I to the laundromat in the car when neither of us was old enough for a license. So, you wouldn’t have to be bothered with laundry. I get that parents give chores to their kids, but to let us take the car! I mean really! Was that very smart!

       I also believe you turned a blind eye to the times we thought we were sneaking out the trailer. Then we’d come home drunk and you’d ignore us. If you had an audience, you’d put on your mom hat and perform the necessary indignation. For your benefit, of course, not ours.

       Although to your credit you always told us that as long as we told you the truth about what we were doing we wouldn’t get in trouble. But if you caught us in a lie than there’d be hell to pay. How convenient for you, taking the responsibility off you and once again placing it on us. 

       Another odd thing is after you cut your long hair off and had a short hair style, you carried on about how I needed to cut my hair. I didn’t want to. I liked my long hair. I sat at the kitchen table eating. My hair pulled back in a pony tail when you came up behind me with a pair of scissors. I didn’t see you but felt you grab hold of my pony tail and snip, you cut several inches off! You were so pleased with yourself and laughed when I got mad. What the heck mother!! You passed it off as a joke, but I think there was something much deeper going on. You were jealous of me, a common theme I recognized off and on in my life.

       You loved it when people thought I was your sister not your daughter. It made you feel like you didn’t look your age but more mine. I wanted a mother not a sister! My friends always liked you because you were the “cool” mom! 

       When we lived in Juneau and I was on the drill team, you never came and watched one of our half time performances. Probably because they were on the weekend and that interfered with your party time. But then again maybe that’s why we moved back into town so you wouldn’t have to schlep me to practices. You moved us into a house within walking distance of the high school.

       When we lived in Juneau, I don’t recall who you were dating, imagine that, you would go on long weekend out of town trips.  Leaving me and Debe to watch two-year-old Jennifer and eleven-year-old Sam. You’re lucky we never got in serious trouble. Fortunately, typical teen ager shenanigans were our mo. Other than the séance weekend, but that’s a whole other story.

        I dated eighteen-year-old Buddy. To this day I shake my head when I think that you let him stay the night and sleep with me, your fourteen-year-old daughter! Fortunately, I wouldn’t have sex with him, but regardless it wouldn’t have bothered you if I had. I don’t recall you telling me to make sure I didn’t get pregnant. What would you have done if I had? I have no idea!

       Debe would call you out on your BS. I remember the two of you in the kitchen and you kept telling Debe to shut up. She wouldn’t of course. You slapped her. She slapped you back. You slapped her again. She slapped you! The whole time you were yelling at one another! I hated such outbursts and escaped to my bedroom. 

       Shortly after that you decided to move to Anchorage. It would have been Debe’s senior year and she didn’t want to change schools, AGAIN! She said no to moving, got a job, stayed in Juneau and lived with a friend. Once again you shipped Sam off to Dad’s. Surprisingly you let me stay in Juneau with friends of yours and finish out the school year. As I recall I really had to beg you to let me!

       As soon as I was out of school I flew to Anchorage, because you needed a babysitter for Jennifer for the summer!  I desperately missed Debe. She was my confidant; we had each other’s back.  We would fight tooth and nail, but I felt safe with Debbie around.  After the incident with Dad I was always on guard. Especially with all the different men that passed through our door. 

       I was fifteen when we moved to Anchorage. I spent that first summer, with no friends because school hadn’t started yet. I babysat Jennifer, read books, and watched the guys who lived next door come and go. One of those guys was Ed.

You dated Chuck that summer. I probably wouldn’t remember him if it wasn’t for what happened after you broke up with him. You were out partying one weekend. I was in the bedroom I shared with Sam and Jennifer. Sam was still at dad’s; Jennifer was in her crib. It was late at night. I was sitting in bed reading when I heard someone come stumbling in. 

At first, I thought it was you coming home. Then I heard a very slurred voice call out your name, it was a drunk Chuck. I froze, my stomach immediately went into knots. The only light on was by my bed. He stumbled down the hall. Pushed the bedroom door open.

Moments like that are rather surreal! I recall he had on a tan trench coat and an umbrella in one hand. My voice quivered as I told him mom wasn’t home and be quiet, he’d wake Jennifer. I had my purple baby doll pj’s on. He stumbled over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. I was terrified, he reeked of booze. Fear gripped my heart and mind!

The umbrella fell to the floor as he grabbed both arms and pinned me back against my pillows. His whisky infused breath hissed; “What would your mother do if she came home and found her darling daughter had been raped?”

       The world began to spin as my mind went blank. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t scream it would wake Jennifer! I whispered in terror; “You don’t want to do that!” He arrogantly challenged as he squeezed my arms tighter, “You asking me or telling me!”

       To this day I believe it was by the grace of God I softly replied as tears streamed down my cheeks; “I’m asking you.” That diffused and surprised him. Shocked him, that’s not what he expected. I think he expected me to act like you. After all everyone thought I look like you so I must act like you to. He looked confused as he sat back and hesitantly let go of my arms. He reached down for his umbrella, struggled to keep his balance as got up. He left and mumbled something about letting Betty know he’d stopped by.

       I was in shock! Unable to sleep until you came home! You saw my light on, stuck your head in and told me to turn that damn light off and quit reading. Again, I knew that I knew I couldn’t tell you what had happened. I don’t even remember if I told you Chuck stopped by. From then on whenever you were gone, I made sure doors were locked. That annoyed you because if you came home drunk you sometimes had a hard time unlocking the door.

        Some might say how can I blame you or hold something like that against you if I never told you about it. The point is I knew I couldn’t tell you about it. My analytical mind can understand the why’s. You didn't want to know because it reflected on the image you had of yourself as a mother. It’s another example of how far back I had to bury emotions. I knew I couldn’t trust you to take care of me and what I needed.

       Years later Chuck tracked you down to make amends. He’d been an alcoholic all his life and needed to apologize. He wasn’t specific about what; but to you it was just so nice to talk and catch up with him. What a feather in your gap that an old boyfriend would want to find you. You called me and were so giddy after talking with him. I wish I could say, if only you knew. But it wouldn’t have made a difference!

            She stopped!  It amazed her what memories flooded her soul. The emotions it awakened, but that was the point.  To honor and validate what she’d felt, not dismiss or dishonor them. It was oh so much easier to think and analyze than to feel.  She had to give her heart permission to grieve the loss of mom ever being a mom.  To acknowledge she’d went to mom and once again she wasn’t there as she should have been.

            It hurt to remember. She needed to find the words to describe the emotional pain.  To validate what she’d lost. Look at the memories from her perspective. Not constantly and consistently understand from her mother’s perspective. Enough was enough! She would unbury the pain, regardless the cost. Head in hands she prayed for strength to endure and complete what she’d begun.

Fourteen

           The melodious skyline tone told Melissa she’d received a text.  She opened the app and read a message from Sam; ‘So mom called this morning.  When you get the chance give me a call.’

            She frowned and wondered what was up with her mother now.  By default, Sam was her go to.  Only heaven knew how long that would last.  To say Sam and their mother couldn’t get along was an understatement.  She’d lost count of the times during Sam’s teenage years she’d sat between the two of them and mediated a truce of sorts.  As Jennifer reminded her with the two of them ‘done’ and out of mother’s life Sam had to deal with mom or be done. 

            The longest he’d ever gone not talking to ‘his’ mother was three years. Melissa had always kept mom up to date on his life.  Only recently she realized that probably wasn’t doing them a favor.  Because as long as mother had news about her kids, she’d never made an effort to figure out why they didn’t talk to her.  She was never at fault.  Not once did she initiate reconciliation when estranged from one of her kids. 

            They had always been the ones to contact her. Bury their hurt and anger, do what was considered the right thing.  Get over themselves, honor their mother and reconcile, but in all honesty they had capitulated. She’d be so glad they were talking to her again.  It validated, to her narcissistic mind, that they’d finally come to their senses and she’d been right all along.

            Melissa recalled the last conversation they had about Jennifer not calling or responding to her texts.  Mother had been so frustrated. She’d reminded mom how busy Jennifer was with teaching and her kids.  Melissa knew Jennifer just didn’t want to talk with mom, but of course she wasn’t going to tell her that. 

            In a rare burst of anger mom told her she needed to call Jennifer remind her that she was her mother and call her back! It had been three months since they’d talked! She should never be to busy to talk with her mother! Melissa had listened and never called Jennifer.  She knew her sister was beyond tired of capitulating.  

“Oh well,” she grimaced and dialed Sam’s number, “Water under the bridge.”

            Her brother’s familiar voice answered, “The cheese is really slipping off her cracker!”

            His humor had sustained them through the years when it came to mom stuff, “Really! Not even a hello,” she giggled, “Care to explain.”

            “Her short-term memory has gotten worse!  She sent me a birthday card and it came back. She’d used my old address. I don’t know how many times I repeated this address before she finally got it. Lynn overheard the call and asked if she was on drugs, that’s how bad it was!”

            “I’m not surprised,” Melissa sighed, “That’s what I tried to tell everybody who enabled mom to leave! Just like her brothers, she was headed into early dementia, and that was a year and a half ago. They told me I was nuts and oh so wrong! It was just age-related memory problems. After what we went through with Ed’s grandmother, I recognized the signs and symptoms.”

            “I hear ya! It’s extremely bad!” He emphasized.  “I need to brainstorm what to say if I should get a phone call about what to do with her.”

            “You could call her friend Karen.”

            “I’m not going to call anybody!” He said with distain, “I want to be prepared! So, I can tell whoever may call me, what they need to do!”

            “What are you thinking?” She asked.

            “I’m thinking I should tell them what they can go do with themselves,” He mocked.

            “Go for it!” She encouraged with a laugh.

            “I do plan on letting them know I can’t move her by me.  Jennifer isn’t going to want her and you certainly can’t take her again,” He stated matter of factly.

            “Even if I could, there’s not a snow balls chance in hell Ed would let it happen!”

            “Can’t blame the man,” Sam agreed, “He’s put up with his fair share of mom’s bullshit.”

            “It’s a wonder he was on board when we moved her here.  He was the one who checked on apartments and picked up applications for her,” Jennifer said.

            “The man has always had a strong sense of what’s the right thing to do.”

            “He certainly does! As the psychiatrist said during our home study years ago, he’s practical to the point of being rigid.  He’s sees things in black and white, very few shades of grey.  He stepped out of that comfort zone and got on board with moving mom here. He overlooked the times she’d told me to divorce him.  I mean,” exasperation laced her tone, “on our anniversary she called with best wishes but told me that was just to damn long to be with one man.”

            “She’s a fruitcake!”

            “Sorry! I went off on a tangent.” Melissa shifted back to their mom topic, “What else you got?”

            “I figure by the time we get a call something will have happened.  I can’t and won’t fly down to take care of her.  I’m going to tell them to put her in a home. Or move her back to California with Anne.”

            “Jennifer would love that!  She hates mom being in the same state!”

            “You think Anne would agree to it?”

            “Who knows,” Melissa puffed out a breath of frustration, “She blatantly usurped us kids! She told Jennifer, when confronted as to why she helped mom do such a stupid thing, that she knew how unhappy mom was living here and couldn’t bring herself to tell her no! Jennifer told her that it was a big f’ing deal my being done with mom. She let her know she wasn’t going to take care of mom either.  I guess Anne’s eyes grew big, she asked what she was supposed to do with mom. In no uncertain terms Jennifer told Anne she’d have to take care of her or put her in a home. She knows where we stand.”

            “I will reinforce that, if she’ll even talk to me,” Sam said, “When mom went into the hospital while at Anne’s, she never returned my calls or texts. I think she knows where we stand and is afraid to talk to us.”

            “Who knows,” Melissa growled, “Ed has no respect for her and thinks she’s stupid!”

            “Well it is a family trait,” he poked at her.

            “Hey, speak for yourself knucklehead!”

            Sam chortled, “I knew that’d get your goat!”

            Melissa thppht him through the phone.

            “So, it sounds like we’re on the same page with this mom stuff,” Sam said more than asked.

            “Absolutely!”  She stated.  “You’d think people would figure out that if all her kids are done, then there must be a problem with her, other than we’re the ones with the problem.”

            “Hey Sis, you know there’s no point in trying to explain to someone not willing to understand,” he consoled her.

            “I know,” she said with sadness, “I’m glad my counselor has helped me with how to respond to people who aren’t willing to listen.  To tell them that the pain mother caused us needs to be valued, honored and respected.  Then leave it at that!”

            “Great advice,” he agreed, “It helped talking this out with you.  I have a game plan now.  I’ll tell people to kiss my rosy red ass!”

            “Yea right,” she pictured a huge grin on his face. “Bye, love you!”

            “Bye! Love you!”  He hung up.

            Melissa stared at the phone and couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen with mother. It filled her with sorrow knowing things we’re only going to get worse and there wasn’t anything she could do to help.  Mother had seen to that with her false narrative about how she fell.  In this day and age, she couldn’t take a chance of someone hearing such a ridiculous accusation and report her for it.  She found comfort knowing Sam and Jennifer got it and totally supported her.  They weren’t done with mother because of her. They had their own valid reasons; this incident had only served as a catalyst for the inevitable.

            The very thing she’d spent a lifetime trying to keep from happening had anyway.  That which her mother feared most was coming upon her.  Destitute of her children, her mind slipping away, getting stuck in a nursing home far from loved ones. Alone in her old age.  Melissa sucked in a sharp breath, shook her head as a reminder to not go down that garden path, nothing good would come of it. Mother was not her responsibility. 

            “Let it go Melissa Ann!” She sharply told herself, “Your mother is in God’s perfectly capable hands!”

Thirteen

           “Day three,” Melissa murmured.  Ed had asked her when she’d be done with writing ‘the’ letter to mom.  If only she knew.  It felt like peeling back layers of onion, this yucky walk down memory lane.  Memories from another time, another place, and what felt like another person.  At least yucky wasn’t as intimidating as depression. 

            She flipped through her journal taking note of important points to keep her focused on the process. The key was to identify the emotions that accompanied them.  To remember without falling into the trap of rehashing could get tricky.  Pain long buried, anger suppressed for a lifetime beckoned to resurface to help heal a broken heart. 

            A heart that had not been allowed to acknowledge its pain, in order to survive what she now understood to be a narcissistic mother.  She wrestled with giving herself permission.  In some ways it all seemed so petty to dredge up memories long since forgiven and forgotten.  But she desired to be whole, for the pieces of her shattered heart to be placed in the Father’s hand and restored by the love of Jesus. 

            “Okay girl you got this,” she took a deep breath as her fingers tapped on the keyboard and words flowed.

SHAME, SHAME, SHAME on you mother for trying to put your guilt on me.  Shame on you for never admitting when you were wrong.  Your hypocrisies are monumental.  As Sarah said, you have a set of morals; you just choose to not live by them.

          I wonder when you emotionally abandoned me?  Did extended family fill in that gap until they were no longer present in my life?  Questions that will never be answered.  Because you will never see your culpability.  I get that you’re incapable of seeing, but I no longer have to be condoning of it.

          I spent years covering your literal and figurative nakedness with love that covers a multitude of sins.  And lo your sins are many.  That is between you and Jesus. You were supposed to be my safe place, and I don’t recall when I could trust you to be that.

          Sam and Jennifer can recall the moment they realized they could no longer feel safe, trust, or respect you to be a mother.  Ironically, they were both around thirteen.  As I think on it, I would have to say it was when I was eleven and the incident happened with Dad.

I had walked across town in the middle of the night hoping to find refuge with my mom.  You weren’t there, the apartment was locked.  I sat in the buildings open laundry room, crying.  Scared, confused and wounded beyond understanding. 

          The neighbor man heard me.  He came in to find me sobbing, I explained I was waiting for you to come home.  He offered for me to wait in his apartment. I was frightened to be left alone with a man.  I protested, he gently encouraged me and I went with him only after he promised he’d leave his apartment door open until you came home.

          I’m sure he sensed something horrendous had happened, and was trying to help.  As we sat at his table by a window overlooking the street, dad erratically pulled up to the apartment building.  Yelling at Sam to stay in the car. 

          I panicked, there was nowhere for me to run.  I begged the man not to make me go with dad.  It was obvious dad was still drunk.  The man let me hide in the bathroom and kept his apartment door open. 

          Dad pounded on the apartment door yelling for Betty.  The man stepped out and told dad no one was home.  Dad was frantic, wanting to know where I was.  The man calmed him down the best he could, telling him when mom come home, he’d tell her he’d come by.  Dad finally left, speeding and erratically driving the car.  I was so worried for Sam!

          I don’t know how long I waited for you in his apartment.  I do recall him offering me something to eat and drink.  Finally, a car pulled up and you got out with some man.  You were laughing as the two of you stumbled up the stairs.  As you came down the hall, I rushed out to you.

          As I look back, you put on a show of concern for what I was doing there.  Afterall you were trying to impress the man you’d brought home.  But I knew you were put out with my being there.  We went into the apartment. It had to be four or five in the morning, it was daylight. 

          You took me in the bedroom, told me to go to bed and be quiet.  When you asked what had happened, I said dad was drunk.  That’s all you needed to hear. You didn’t try to find out anymore. You were in a hurry to go back out to that man.

          I could hear you laughing and fixing breakfast.  I cracked the bedroom door and watched as you flirted and apologized for my being there.  It would be years later before I understood why.  It was a one-bedroom apartment and I was in it.  So, no sex.

          My entire world turned upside down that night.  Later that day rather than find out what happened to prompt me to flee across town in the middle of the night. You got mad at me for doing such a stupid thing and told me to never do it again! No matter how drunk dad was. 

          In a single night I lost the shelter of knowing I had a parent to turn to and take care of me.  I would no longer trust or feel secure with dad.  I knew that I knew confiding and counting on you to put my needs before yours was not going to happen.  I felt so devastatingly alone. 

To this day I’m not sure how I survived.  I told no one what had happened, with dad or you.  I retreated to my books.  I don’t remember playing with any friends.  There was no one to turn to.

I would protest that I didn’t want to go with dad when it was his weekend to have us.  You would have none of it and made me go.  I know now it’s because us kids were out of your hair and you could go off and party.  Heaven forbid you pay attention to the desperation your child felt, because it interfered with your life.

I never slept at night when with dad.  I had to be ready to escape in case he got drunk and confused me for being you again.  There was no safe place for me, no one to count on other than myself.  At eleven years old I had to become my own parent.  Although I suspect I had been that way for a while.  Once you were no longer living around family and divorced, Katie bar the doors there was nothing to stop you from living life as you wanted, not even your kids. 

I get the feeling people think there’s a statute of limitations for parental responsibility regarding choices and actions as a parent. Because you are the way you are, never going to change and old. There’s no need or too late for accountability of your culpability. Friends and family contribute to you thinking the same way. You’re known for justifying your choices with “I did the best I could with what I had.”  A true statement, but that still doesn’t make your life choices right.

I think there is a statute of limitations when there has been regret and repentance.  Dad did that, it’s why my relationship with him was redeemed and restored.  He apologized for all the crap. You don’t think there’s any crap to apologize for. Even now, telling people I shoved you to the floor and fractured your back.  Once again, your need to justify your choices requires that you make someone else the villain and now it’s me. 

I’m not covering your sin, this time, with love mom.  I choose to take responsibility only for that which I’m accountable. Which is I should have stepped away from you, but I didn’t. But I also did not shove you to the floor. I regret you lost your balance and fell. I wish it hadn’t happened, yet it did, but regret does not equate guilt.

You know what I wish mother. More than anything else in this world, I wish you had been there for me, had been a mommy when I desperately needed one. That you would have taken me into consideration.  Even though I know that’s an impossibility, that’s what I wish. Therein lies the rub, my wish never did nor will ever come true.  I have been left alone to fend for myself without a mother the majority of my life.  That will never change!

So now, according to you, I’m the bad guy, I’m the one who screwed up.  I guess that’s just the way it’ll have to be.  I don’t see any way or chance of that changing.  You are who you are.  But more importantly I am who I am, I like me even though you don’t.  Sometimes being liked is far more important than being loved. 

I know you tried to be a parent, but you have a rather bizarre love/hate relationship with being a mother. I’m empty and have nothing left for you, I have to be done with you mother. I’m finding my way through accepting being done with you. I’m worn out and tired of living in this wounded place.

Your shame is not mine; you have to live with your shame.  Even though you will never admit to it.  But I’m choosing to no longer wait, just in case, you come to that realization.  Because just because dad did doesn’t mean you will.

My emotional well-being depends on my cutting that mother cord in my life.  I struggle with knowing I need to grieve, but not knowing how with you.  I found my way through grieving the loss of dad as a father.  Bottom line is I don’t want to grieve you.  I can’t find the emotion for it.  I can describe what the emotions should be but I can’ necessarily feel them, to my detriment. 

I want to get well, as the counselor puts it.  I’m struggling with the how of it.  Perhaps it will come to me as I continue to peel back the layers of our story through the writing of this letter.  I prayerfully chose to, regardless of the time it takes.  I must give myself permission to take whatever time to do so.  For now, it’s okay to be done with you mother. I will continue to list the whys as this letter progresses.

            Melissa’s fingers floated over the keyboard as she let sink in what had flowed out of her.  Some would say, how could she hold her mother accountable for something she hadn’t been told.  But that’s where she had to remind herself, those people would never understand because it didn’t fit their life paradigm.  Instinctively she and her siblings knew that they knew their mother could not be trusted for their emotional well-being. 

            Forgiveness was the very air they’d breathed when it came to their mother.  Time and again it had been unconditional, the very essence of forgiveness.  Seventy times seven was a number they had long surpassed.  But forgiveness wasn’t the issue this time.  Therein lay the rub because there were those who confused the evidence of forgiveness as being reconciliation. 

            Fortunately, Melissa understood the power of combining the two.  She’d experienced it with her dad. The years of inner healing she’d walked through and unconditional forgiveness she’d extended to her dad, because of the grace her heavenly Father had modeled through His son Jesus. 

            Reconciliation had not been possible until certain conditions were met.  First and foremost, feeling safe with him.  Listening to his guttural grief when he learned what he’d done to her while drunk and his remorse that led to repentance made her realize she could be safe again. Their relationship was never restored to what it had been as a child, daddy’s little girl.  But they had found their way back through common interests, such as a shared love of history.  Melissa smiled as she remembered their Monday phone visits.  Her Dad always had a joke for her, he loved to hear her laugh.

            Unfortunately, Melissa knew that in all likelihood reconciliation wasn’t possible with her mother, which greatly saddened her.  Love may have covered her mother’s multitude of sins, and contributed to her narcissistic need to be the hero or victim, never the villain. But sadly, love and forgiveness weren’t the key to reconciliation anymore. Over the years Sam had tried, to no avail, to see if mother could admit to her culpability in anything.  She never would or could admit to not being a good mother. 

            She read her letter. Her heart grieved for that little girl who was forced to grow up so quickly in order to survive.  Protected, she suspected, by the grace of God because of her childlike prayer underneath that huge old tree, asking for wisdom like Solomon.  She was humbled to think of how He’d answered that prayer through the years.  Wisdom had sustained and guided her from an early age.  Wisdom beyond human understanding, foolish to those who thought themselves wise.

Twelve

         Ed poured another cup of coffee, leaned back on the counter and watched as his wife flitted about, at least that’s what he called it.  “You about ready for the girls?” He asked.

            “What are you doing?” She playfully scowled at him, “Don’t you have someplace to be?”

          “Hey,” he lifted his cup and scowled back at her, “I needed a refill.  Gotta problem with that old lady?”

           “You’re cruising buster you keep calling me that,” she bumped him with her hip as she walked by.  “Can’t you tell I’m ready!”

            “Sure! I see an open laptop and a pile of books next to it.  Knowing you they’ll be more books out there by the end of the day.”

            “Maybe there will or maybe there won’t,” she taunted, “Mr. Know it all!”

            “Why yes I am!” He lifted his cup, “Thanks for noticing!”

            Melissa rolled her eyes, “What am I to do with you!”

           Ed grinned, topped off his coffee and headed for the door, “If you need me, which I doubt, you know where I’ll be.”

           “Get out of here you nerd ball,” she swatted his butt as he left.  Some days he was so full of himself.  At least he had a project going in his shop that should keep him busy and out of her hair for the day.  A car door slammed, then another announced the arrival of Jan and Diana.

            “Hey,” Jan called out after a quick knock as she came in, “I hear it’s just the three of us today.  What happened to Mary?”

            “She’s busy, or so she says,” Melissa explained, “I’m getting a little concerned.  It’s not like her to miss our Fall Road trip and now Bible Study for the third time.  Makes me wonder if somethings up.”

            “It is out of character for her,” Diana agreed.  “I’ll give her a call in a day or two and see how she is.”

            “Good idea. Let us know what she has to say,” Melissa stated as Diana reassured her, she would.

            The women chatted as they poured coffee, settled into their usual seats at the table and pulled out their Bibles and notebooks.  It was a routine they’d been doing with one another for years, studying the Word. 

            “So, where we going today?” Jan shifted their conversation back to their intended purpose.

            “Got a topic in mind?” Melissa asked.

            “You mentioned something interesting the other day,” she answered, “Just wondered what else you learned about the peace offering.”

            “Jan was telling me about it on the way over,” Diana added, “Sounded like an intriguing subject.”

            “I thought you guys were tired of my Leviticus ramblings,” Melissa grinned.

            “Don’t get too excited there, girl,” Jan raised her hand and chuckled, “Small doses of Leviticus are fine, just don’t get carried away!”

            “But Leviticus is such a love letter from God!  Jesus said he fulfilled the Law and Prophets.  I want to know the nuances of how He fulfilled the Law!  We can quote chapter and verse of how he fulfilled the prophets! Why not the law?”  Her eyes sparkled as she nodded for emphasis.

            Diana and Jan laughed in unison at Melissa’s passionate declaration they’d heard time and again, much to their delight.  Jan liked to push her button, get her going because then as they delved into the Word it became an adventure. 

            “We could all use more peace in our lives. So, tell us what Leviticus has to say on how to do that,” Diana encouraged her.

             “Well, that’s the interesting thing, the peace offering has nothing to do with peace,” she explained.

            “Really! That surprises me,” said Jan, “Then what kind of offering is it?”

            “You have to start by understanding the purpose of offerings,” Melissa began, “The commandments help me to know what offering to bring, so that I consider my ways and learn how to walk in His testimonies.”

            “Okay,” Jan raised an eyebrow, “but what does that mean?”

            “First let me explain what offering means,” Melissa flipped through her notes. “Offering simply means ‘draw or coming near’.  When an offering is made the person is saying they want to bring themselves closer to God and elevate themselves to His level of holiness.”

            “I like that,” Diana interjected, “I certainly want to draw nearer to God.”

            “An example of what the peace offering means can be seen in the ingredients of the required meal offering. The grain represents our very existence and that our lives are in His hands.  Oil symbolizes His comfort.  Frankincense represents joy and satisfaction in knowing Him. The offering is our chance to acknowledge He is these things to us.”

            “The contrast to that is how Idolater’s used offerings in ancient times.  They believed the animal was to keep their judgmental, bloodthirsty angry god from getting mad.  Which is contrary to Jewish belief.  The Law teaches that offerings are a means to draw closer to Hashem, the Merciful God. His name Elohim isn’t used with offerings because it represents His attribute of Judgment.  Offerings are not about judgment but drawing closer to God.”

            “That certainly changes my idea of offerings,” stated Diana.

            “Me too,” agreed Jan. “I’m starting to understand why you think of Leviticus as a love letter.  If the intent is to give us a means to declare our love of God before men, then sign me up!”

            “One of the interesting requirements, when offerings were brought before the Priest, the person was required to lean on the animal and profess their sins. Which represent their sins being placed upon the animal for sacrifice or death.  The peace offering is the exception, rather than confessing sins one is to praise and thank God.  Here let me read you this quote in the commentary on page 553 of the Chumash, it explains it better than I can:”

            “Offerings are brought voluntarily by a person or a group of people who are moved to express their love of God, their gratitude for His goodness and to enhance their closeness to Him.  A person who brings a peace offering has not been motivated by a need to atone for a sin, but by a sense of wholeness and a free-willed desire for perfection.  There is no confession of sin when they lean on animal for peace offering, rather the owner praises God when he leans on animal.”

            “I’m curious,” Melissa paused, “Did either of you see what I saw in that commentary?”

            “There’s a lot there, can you be more specific?” Diana asked.

            “I’ll read it again and think of Jesus fulfilling the Law when I do,” She slowly read the quote again, emphasizing key words.

            “Offerings are brought voluntarily by a person or group of people who are moved to express their love or God, their gratitude for His goodness and to enhance their closeness to Him. A person who brings a peace offering has not been motivated by a need to atone for a sin, but by a sense of wholeness and a free-willed desire for perfection.  There is no confession of sin when they lean on animal for peace offering, rather the owner praises God when he leans on animal.”

            “See it now?”  She wondered.

            “Ah!  I think I do,” awe filled Diana’s voice.  Melissa raised her hand to stop her from revealing what she’d seen. They focused on Jan as she pondered, nose scrunched, brow knit together. 

            “What do you see Jan?” Melissa encouraged her friend.  Diana leaned forward in anticipation of the Aha moment!

            Jan’s eyes lit up, her hands excitedly waved about as she proclaimed, “John leaned on Jesus at the last supper!”

            “How cool is that!” Melissa grinned from ear to ear, “Jesus fulfilled the nuances of the Law when John leaned on him! Was it serendipitous the night before crucifixion, I think not! I can’t help but wonder that if it was that important for Jesus to fulfill all aspects of the Law, to the littlest most seemingly insignificant details, then what are we missing by not looking at the Law!”

            “Wow! Way cool!” Jan exclaimed.

            “The beauty of a peace offering is that it was usually inspired by a miracle. There is no greater miracle than Jesus!  The prime motivation for a peace offering is an inner desire to draw closer to God!  No man comes to the son unless drawn by the Father!”  Melissa elaborated.  “What I’m learning from Leviticus, to quote the Chumash, is that it “shows us in picture form, what God expects from those who have been redeemed.”

            “I can see why God had me complete that scripture for you with; the testimony of Melissa is the spirit of wonder,” said Diana. “I think it takes a sense of wonder to be able to see those things that are right there for the asking. But we skim over them thinking we’re going for knowledge that’s more important. The idea that John fulfilled the law by leaning on Jesus before He was sacrificed is amazing.”

            “It truly is a wonder to me,” said Melissa with a contented sigh, “The more I learn about the offerings the less I realize I know, but want to.  To help keep it in perspective I remind myself of what Paul wrote in Philippians about knowing the love that surpasses knowledge.”

            “And friends like us to burst your bubble when needed,” Jan grinned.

            “That goes without saying,” Melissa rolled her eyes.

            “But at least I said it,” Jan countered.

            “Here we go again,” Diana laughed, “I’m just glad it’s you this time and not me!”

            The women continued to banter and discuss what the fulfilled law looked like and how to apply it in their everyday lives. Melissa elaborated on the peace offering, while Jan and Diana peppered her with questions. They were so engrossed they didn’t even notice when Ed slipped and out for more coffee. Their adventure in the Word was a journey that filled their hearts and minds with joy.