Twenty-Four

Twenty-Four

            It had been a great three days with her brother, she hated saying goodbye.  They’d laughed, she’d cried, he teased her mercilessly.  Basically, their typical sibling shenanigans.  There was a comfort knowing they were on the same page when it came to mom stuff.  They had been there for one another through thick and thin, that wasn’t about to change.  “Thank God!” Melissa murmured.

            The burden of having been her mother’s golden child was waning.  There was a lightness of soul at not having to endure the imposed responsibility.  It was her choice to keep from straying back into the mother’s path of familiar guilt trips.  When Melissa felt troubled of spirit, she was learning how to tear off the weight of amiss prayers.  Not always easy but necessary. 

            “We wrestle not only with flesh and blood but principalities and powers rulers of wickedness in heavenly places,” she reminded herself.

            “Well that sounds like a lot of fun,” Sam derided with a smirk.

            “Hey, Doofas!  I didn’t hear you sneak up on me!  All packed?” She asked.

            “Yep, bags by the door.”

            “Should be a nice drive. The forecast calls for sun the whole way to Arlington.”

            “Whoo Hoo!”  He twirled a finger in the air, “Nice drive till I hit I5 through Seattle!  The things I endure for you!”

            “Blleth,” she rasps berried, “you have it so rough!”

            “Yea!  I’m stuck being your brother,” he made a goofy face.

            “Ok you two be nice,” Ed grinned as he placed an arm across Melissa’s shoulders, “Sure glad you came down Sam.  It’s been good for your sister.”

            “Anything for the old girl,” Sam smiled.

            “We’ll try and get up your way soon,” Ed said.

            “Doors always open!” Sam picked up his bag, “Better get going, don’t want to hit rush hour traffic.”

            Melissa hugged her brother, eyes welling up, “Love you Doofas!  Text when you get home so I know you made it.”

            “Thanks for everything Bro,” Sam hugged Ed and headed out the door. 

            Melissa and Ed watched from the doorway as Sam loaded bag in the car. Settled into his seat and backed out the driveway.  She waved and sighed as he pulled away. 

            “I know what you’ll be doing the rest of the day,” Ed said.

            “Really,” Melissa knit her brows, “And what might that be?”

            “Same thing you always do when company leaves.  Tidy and put your house back in order.”  He said with a raised eyebrow.

            Melissa laughed and shook her head, “You know me too well.  I hope that means you plan on staying out of my way.”

            “Better believe it, woman!  I know when I’m not wanted!  If you need me, and I emphasize ‘if’, you can find me in the garage!”

            She pretended to kick him in the butt as he walked off.  Sam’s visit had been good for her soul.  He always made her laugh till her sides hurt.  They used to tell him he could give Robin Williams a run for his money.  The stories Sam would tell about his time in the Navy as a Flight Engineer. He certainly could spin a tall tale.

She stripped the bed, started laundry, cleaned the bathroom and vacuumed floors. Content the house was back in order she made a cup of tea and settled into a comfy chair with her bible and journal.  There were a few things she wanted to debrief with God on. 

Her eyes lit upon notes from Jer. 6:16: Thus, says the Lord, stand by the ways and see and ask for the ancient paths. Where the good way is and walk in it, and you shall find rest for your souls ….

 She reviewed several pages of notes and discovered an ancient path found in the ways of wisdom.  When Naomi asked her if she could remember a primary person who nurtured her, Melissa had been unable to think of anyone.  Naomi defined that as a ‘poverty of nurturing’ and encouraged her to seek nurturing from the mother aspect of God’s nature.  How scandalous was that?!  To try and think of God in the feminine. 

Melissa recalled when she’d walked through inner healing concerning dad trauma.  It had been easy to relate to Jesus not only as savior, but brother and friend.  Then when the time had come to relate to God as Father, she’d balked and wrestled with embracing any Father image in her life.  It was too painful.

Ingrained in her was the image of her own father as distant, aloof, angry, dark and brooding.  Even though she’d been daddy’s little girl as a child that had all changed that fateful night, he’d come home falling down drunk and mistaken her for mom, calling her Betty. Inner healing calmed the ravages of the emotional trauma, it wasn’t an easy process but a freeing one. Regardless, she’d made the choice to do the work; let Jesus heal her soul and embrace God as Father.

The Father wooed her ever so gently and lovingly, He’d made it impossible to resist. Melissa contentedly recalled that memorable day when she’d been looking for Father’s Day cards. Always a challenge to find just the right one for each of the father’s in her life.  Her dad, stepdad, and father-in-law.  When she’d finally settled on cards and started to walk off a question crossed her mind, “Don’t I get one?”  It stopped her dead in her tracks.

A card for Father God! It had never crossed her mind to even consider such a thing. In that moment an overwhelming warmth of loving grace flooded her soul. She turned around and felt inexpressible joy at picking out a card for Abba Father.  She wouldn’t have to censor herself and take into consideration what message fit the man the card was intended for.  She could throw caution to the wind and pick out the sappiest card that expressed what she really, really wanted to be able to say to a true father. 

When she found the most perfect one, she lifted it to the heavens as an expression of love for the magnificent unconditional love Father had lavished on her.  It was a joy unspeakable and full of glory moment, one she’d never forget. Reconciliation with her Dad had been possible because she’d embraced God as Father. This she knew to the very depths of her soul.

            Also, reconciliation wouldn’t have been possible without the blessing of her dad sincerely apologizing for all the bad and crappy stuff he’d done. They had slowly and tentatively developed a new father daughter relationship.  One based not just on love, but actions that spoke louder than words. 

            He’d call on Mondays when Alice was at work. Those conversations always started with a joke that would leave her in stitches. Joke telling was not a gift she’d inherited, fortunately Sam had.  Then they’d discuss current events and discovered a mutual love of history.  He’d tease her about how long it was taking her to get a Bachelor’s degree, called her a professional student.  Looking back, he’d probably been a bigger influence than she realized on her decision to get a B.A. in History. 

            The year he’d been diagnosed with lung cancer, on top of emphysema and COPD, she’d flown out to visit three times.  The last visit a month before he died.  Her dad had started smoking when eleven. Docs said it would cause more stress than good to make him stop after his cancer diagnosis. His solution to cigarette smoke in the apartment; turn on the exhaust fan over the stove and stand next to it.

            Alice, her stepmother, always hated leaving them alone. She had to go to the store one afternoon so they had some rare time, just the two of them. Her Dad stood next to the stove, she sat on a wobbly stool in the kitchen as they chatted.  It was a conversation she’d never forget and be eternally grateful for. Her dad looked so frail just a wisp of the robust man he’d once been.

            “Sis I have to ask you something,” she remembered him asking with a pained look.

            “Sure Dad,” She’d answered. “Ask me anything you want.”

            “Why did you come back?” His furrowed brow deepened with regret and perpetual sorrow.

            She knew what he was asking.  After all the shitty, bad, unforgivable things he’d done.  That as a child she’d been witness and subject too.  After all that why would she want to be there, with him?  She knew that she knew he carried the burden of not being able to forgive himself.  How was it possible for her too?  Without him saying it, she knew that was what he was asking.

            Silently she’d prayed; “God what do I need to say that will sooth his soul?’  In a flash, she had the answer.

            “Because you’re my dad.  I’m your daughter and I love you.” She’d answered in a voice choked with years of pent up emotion.  Tears freely flowed down his deeply lined cheeks.  Her tears mirrored his, a precious moment frozen in time. Tears collected in the heavens because Father’s will be done on earth.

He’d responded from a place of abject brokenness; “I love you too sis.”

            Years of hopeless condemnation melted away in the presence of the Father’s love. They had been given a gift in that moment of time and it had not been squandered.  It was an eternal moment, a sliver of a glimpse of God’s holy mercy.  Melissa’s heart melted in the remembering.  There were years such a moment would never have been possible.  Thankfully with Father God’s favor and blessing the seeming impossible had become reality. 

            It was a very cherished memory.  She liked to imagine her dad in charge of that section of eternities library which told her story.  What had been stolen from him on earth was restored in the heavens. He was getting to know his daughter as the Father knew her. At their glorious reunion she looked forward to the telling of his story as well.  It renewed her soul to remember with wonder that which had been lost was forever found.

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Three

            “Good morning,” Melissa brightly greeted Sam and handed him coffee.

            “Ugh! What’s good about it?”  He grumbled, white hair a bedraggled mess of bed head.

            “Well aren’t we a chipper one,” she grinned. He murmured a few choice words about her being an annoying morning person.

            Sam shuffled over to the table, sat down, sipped his coffee and stared out the window.  Melissa knew her brother well enough to leave him be while he compartmentalized the ever-present pain.  Doctors told him in his early fifties he had the body of a ninety-year-old. He’d pushed it to its limits in his youth.  The clincher happened when he’d injured his back. Over time it’d resulted in two steel rods to prevent being paralyzed. 

            In usual stubborn fashion, he’d disregarded the doctor’s advice to stop activities like golf and canoeing. Because it would create additional scar tissue.  Which resulted in more pain and a twelve-year dependence on increased dosages of narcotics.  It hadn’t helped he’d married a younger woman who always wanted to ‘play’ and encouraged him to take pain meds so they could.  

            Despite doctor’s orders to wean himself off oxycontin, he went cold turkey after they’d put in a spinal cord stimulator; a godsend for his lower back.  He still endured upper back pain.  With the help of pain management techniques, he could function. But only after coffee and a profuse amount of morning cursing and complaining.  Melissa puttered in the kitchen and waited; he’d yack when ready.

            “More please,” he grunted holding out his cup.  She filled it, noting his lite blue eyes looked more alert despite the half-mast eyelids.

            “How’d you sleep?” She asked.

            “Not bad,” he explained, “I ate pot candy before going to bed, so got my six hours.  Just the usual pain and wishing I were dead.”

            Melissa knew this was a common morning refrain.  Although there had been a time, he’d seriously contemplated suicide.  She could think of three specific incidences, where over the phone, she’d talked him out of it.  Thankfully it had been a good ten years since that period in his life.  The constant pain, divorce, and oxycontin addiction had been a strong pull to end it all. Now he just needed to talk about wanting to die and argue with God about why He hadn’t taken him yet. 

            “What’s on the agenda for today?”  Sam half growled.

            “No agenda.  Just hang out,” she answered. “Unless you want to do something.”

            “Nah! I’m happy staying put.  What’s Ed up too?”

            “He ran over to Bob’s for coffee.” She shook her head, “He likes being retired and ‘gossiping’ with Bob. My word not his.”

            “Retirement sure has mellowed him,” Sam commented.  “I can remember back in the day he was the energizer bunny.”

            Melissa laughed.  An unbidden image of her husband dressed in a pink bunny suit like the one from his favorite holiday movie A Christmas Story dazzled her thoughts.

            “That wasn’t that funny,” her brother looked at her quizzically.

            “Sorry I was picturing him hopping all around in a pink bunny suit,” she continued to giggle as Sam spit out a mouthful of coffee and loudly chortled.

            “Hey you could have warned a guy,” he smiled and wiped coffee off his chin.

            “Sorry!” she grinned “Yep he certainly has mellowed. I also think he’s just giving us time to chat without him around.”

            “Cool! So, what ya want to talk about?” his tone brightened, “Quantum Physics? String Theory? Good versus evil?”

            “Coffee must be kicking in,” she rolled her eyes, “How about what a cute freckled face redheaded girl you made when you were little.”

            “Hey! That was all you and Debe’s doing!  I was too young to fight back!”

            “Yea, it was pretty fun. You were our living Doll.  We’d put a bright scarf on your head.  Clip on earrings, bright red lipstick and you were all ready for us to play house and make mind.” She said with delight.

            “It’s a wonder I’m not more screwed up after what you two did to me.”

            “Ah! You wish you could blame it on that!  We both know it helped you get in touch with your feminine side!”  She mocked with one hand on her hip.

            “And you wonder why I made a career of the Navy.  I had to do something drastic just to deprogram myself after you two!”

            “Like that made a difference,” she challenged then softly asked. “Do you ever wonder what Debe would be like today if she hadn’t died so young?”

            “Really haven’t thought about her in a long time. You think of her often?”

            “Now and again,” she sighed. “Usually on her birthday in March and especially when Nicole died.  I couldn’t help but wonder how different things might have been if she were alive.”

            “Hmm, after all these years you still miss her?”

            “Yes. Even though it’s been forty-five years since her death, I do. She had a way of cutting through mom’s BS and calling her on it. I never learned to do that. I think of all the mischief we got in. I mean, she’s the one who got me to smoke my first cigarette, Salem Light.  I got a bit of a buzz off um and was hooked.”

            “I remember you guys sneaking in the back door of the trailer after being out late to a party at her boyfriend’s trailer,” Sam chuckled, “You didn’t realize mom hadn’t come home yet from her own night of partying.”

            “Yea that sucked,” she flinched at the memory. “We could’ve come through the front door.  Instead I boosted her and then she pulled me up.  Which was hilarious because we were drunker than a skunk.  I kept insisting I hadn’t drunk anything!  So, couldn’t be drunk.  She giggled uncontrollably as I staggered and slurred my words.”

            “Come morning we had a major hangover. I think the only reason mom didn’t notice is she had her typical weekend hangover. Next day, after Debe talked to her boyfriend, I discovered why.  Because, seriously, I hadn’t drunk anything. They’d made a punch and added fruit cocktail.  All I did was eat the fruit at the bottom. Well, little did I know fruit absorbs alcohol and actually makes you drunker. I never made that mistake again!”

“Live and learn! But did you really?” Sam taunted.  “I recall you guys going over to Doug’s a lot!”

“Hey, what about the mischief you stirred up when we lived there?” Melissa challenged.  “I don’t care if it’s politically incorrect but we were trailer trash! A stereotypical family when it came to a single mom with four kids renting a trailer. Living in a park full of kids like us running amok without much supervision.  Thank heavens it was the early seventies where an adult could still read you the riot act for being a hoodlum!”

“Are you implying I was a hoodlum, little miss goodie two shoes!”

“If the shoe fits!” She retorted, tapping a finger on her upper lip, “As I recall you knot heads almost killed a guy with one of your stupid tricks.”

“Naw, we just scared the crap out of him,” Sam shrugged with swagger.

“You caused him to wreck his dirt bike!”

“He was an arrogant asshole!  Picked on us younger guys all the time.  It was his comeuppance.” 

“But creating a manlike dummy and dropping it from a tree limb as if it was someone hanging themselves just as the dude rode underneath! I mean seriously what were you thinking!!”

“I was eleven! You don’t think at eleven!” He mocked, “It’s far more fun to go; I wonder what would happen if … and then do it.  So, we did.”

“You were probably the ring leader knowing you,” She rolled her eyes.  “What’d mom do when she found out?”

“Oh, the usual.  Got out that old leather belt, walloped me a few times.  Grounded me for I don’t remember how long.”  He smiled and added, “Those were the days.”

“I’m amazed you didn’t end up in juvie for some of your antics!” Melissa shook her head with disbelief.

“Yea, that’s for sure!  I remember we broke all the electric meters.  Boy, the whole trailer court was up in arms about that one.  They just couldn’t prove it was our little gang.  It wasn’t too long after mom moved us to town into that house next to the cemetery.”

“Didn’t she send you out to Dad’s?  Seems like whenever you got to be a hand full, she shipped you off to Dad.”

“Probably. She did that so many times I’ve long since lost track of when, what or where,” he frowned.  “One thing I do know is I had trailer trash down to a fine art.  Dad and Alice lived in trailer courts. So between them and mom I ran wild and free!”

“I vaguely remember a few hoodlum antics from when you lived with dad,” Melissa stated.

“Wherever there’s a group of boys there’s trouble brewing, that’s for sure,” he paused, “There were twelve of us, age seven to fourteen.  We were hanging out in a treehouse, smoking cigarettes we’d stole from the cigarette machine.  The treehouse caught on fire. Smoke billowed made it hard to see as we hightailed it out of there. Ended up starting a bit of a forest fire, burnt about an acre before got put out.”

“You know it’s a wonder, an absolute wonder, you didn’t end up in jail!”

“Ah I never really did anything that bad,” he sheepishly stated, “It usually started with ‘you think it would be cool if …’ It’s just examples of the stupid stuff kids do when left to fend for themselves.”

“Good thing you joined the Navy!  Heaven only knows what would have happened to you otherwise!”

“Best thing mother ever did for me was sign those enlistment papers.  She thought she was doing me a big favor. What she didn’t realize was I was so done and wanted to get away from her. She was getting ready to send me back to Dad for the umpteenth time. Like I told cousin Margaret there’s reasons I left home at seventeen.”

            “Reason’s few understand for sure,” Melissa agreed.

            “You and Debe could’ve got into trouble a time or two. Don’t make it sound like it was just me,” Sam protested.

            “True, but ours was usually mom sanctioned.  When laundry needed done Mom would send us in the car to the laundromat. Tell us to be careful, don’t get caught because Debe was fifteen, me fourteen.  Needless to say, we’d start the laundry and off we’d go for a joy ride,” Melissa pondered for a moment, “Or she’d send us to the store for cigs.  Basically, if mom didn’t feel like doing it, she sent us girls.”

            “Those were the days,” Sam sighed.

            “That’s one way to look at it,” Melissa chuckled, “To say we had an unorthodox upbringing is an understatement. I know it seems relatively harmless but, in all reality, it was a shitty way to grow up.”

            “We survived, it could’ve been worse,” Sam stated.

            “Of course, it could have been worse, and therein lies the problem.  Don’t you think having to remember your childhood with “it could’ve been worse” is a problem in and of itself?”

            “Sure,” Sam replied, “but it’s how we’ve survived all those years.”

            “We tolerated the intolerable.  Justified and excused it because mom was being mom, not about to change and nothing we could do about it,” Melissa matter-of-factly stated.

            “Pretty much sums it up that’s for sure,” Sam agreed and grinned, “But hey, it does give us some wild and crazy stories to tell.”

            “Me oh my we do have stories,” Melissa laughed. “It would be a trip to if you, I and Jen combined our stories.”

            “No doubt a bestseller,” he chuckled.

            “Bestseller?” Ed echoed as he stepped into the kitchen.

            Melissa jumped as Sam explained, “Yea Melissa’s going to write an expose.  Tell our tall tales, because that’s what people will think they are.”

            “True, but little would they know it’s a truth stranger than fiction,” Ed validated.

            “I like that description! There you go Sis, the title to the book.” Sam said with delight.

            Melissa raised her hands in protest, “I can tell how the rest of this day’s going! You two ganging up on me.  So, I surrender!”

            “Ah you’re no fun,” Sam pouted.

            “You’ll get over it,” Melissa mocked.

Ed laughed then added, “How about I take us out to breakfast.”

“My treat!” Sam chimed in.

Melissa put cups in the dishwasher.  Ed headed to the bathroom and Sam shuffled off to get ready.  She smiled and remembered when Sam had been eighteen, Ed thirtyish and they’d smoke pot together.  Now they were old men excited to be going out for their favorite meal of the day, breakfast.  Life was good.

Twenty-two

            “Doofas!” Melissa fondly enveloped her brother in a big ole hug, “Get in here!”

            “Hey Sis,” Sam returned the bear hug, “Figured it was time to come see your old face!”

            Melissa slugged him in the shoulder and laughed, “Old!  That’s the pot calling the kettle black!  You joined the ‘60’s’ club last birthday, brother dearest!”

            “I’m still younger than you!” He mocked her.

            She stuck up three fingers stating, “Only by this much!”  Melissa stuck out her tongue as the last word. 

They jibber jabbered as Sam drug his stuff in and settled in the guest room.  He teased her about making sure he had clean sheets. He knew she escaped to the guest bed when Ed snored too loud.  He didn’t want any of her cooties, which resulted in another slug on the arm.

            “Where’s Ed?” Sam asked.

            “Ran to the liquor store. Said he didn’t have the scotch you liked,” she leaned on the door-jam as Sam un-packed.

            “He didn’t have to do that,” he protested. 

            “Too late,” she nonchalantly shrugged. “How was the drive down?”

            “As usual traffic through Seattle sucked!  They really need to do something about I-5! Portland’s almost as bad!”

            “So, I’ve heard!” Melissa remarked, “At least you made it safe and sound.”

            “No thanks to all the idiots on the road who love their idiocrasy,” Sam shook his head.

            Melissa guffawed, “Now that’s a perfect description if I ever heard one!”

            “I call um as I see um,” he grinned and placed his c-pap on the nightstand. “Believe me that’s mild compared to what I really think!”

            “Glad to hear you’re mellowing in your old age,” She said as they made their way to the kitchen. “You and Jen have road rage issues. But that’s what you two get for being city dwellers.”

            “We don’t have road rage issues! We just like to passionately express ourselves,” He smugly protested as he settled onto a barstool. “Something smells good.”

            “I figured you needed a decent meal so put a roast, potatoes, and carrots in the crock pot.”

            “Yum!  How is our little sister these days? I haven’t talked to her in a while.”

            “You know Jen, she’s busy doing what she loves, teaching.  The kids are busy with school.  Hard to believe Sarah will be a senior next year.  They’re already checking out colleges for her.”

            “I talked with Tim on Xbox last week, played Division together.  His voice is changing,” Sam smiled.

            “Well, it should! He turned fourteen last month,” Melissa said, “Jen said he stands eyeball to eyeball with her. He’s in size fourteen shoes.”

            “Man, how time flies!” Sam shook his head. “He’s going to be a big guy!”

            “He liked what the doctor told him, that he could get as tall as six four!”

            “I bet,” he laughed, “He seems like a pretty good kid.”

            “He is, both kids are.  Jen’s thankful that, so far,” Melissa knocked on wood, “neither of them have taken after her wild teenage ways.”

            “They have something she never had, a stable home life,” Sam stated with a nod.

            “True, she’s a great mom.”

            “You were a good role model for her,” Sam said, “Lord knows our mom wasn’t!”

            “I left home when she was five” she protested. “I think she figured out how to be a mom on her own.”

            “Don’t sell yourself short, Sis,” he said with sincerity, “We tell you all the time you’re the matriarch of the family.  If it weren’t for you being there, I don’t think we would’ve survived as well as we did.  Like Mom’s brother told you, the family expected us, kids, to end up in jail.”

            “Maybe so,” she grimaced, “you give me more credit than I deserve.”

            “I don’t think so!  Who do we call when we want to share our successes? Turn to when things aren’t going our way?  Share a funny with?  That would be you!”

            “I like it when you guys do that. I never wanted any of you to feel what I did as a kid. That no one was there for you.  I’m just glad I can be there for you guys!”

            “And that’s what we needed because mom wasn’t there for us. Oh, I know she was there to put a roof over our heads, food on the table, clothes on our backs.  Liked to think of herself as the fun mom. Our friends thought she was such a cool mom.  The bottom line is she wasn’t a mom, just a provider.  How many times, Sis, were you left to take care of Jen and I when she took off for a long weekend with some man?”

            “Several,” she plaintively replied.

            “That’s being too generous,” Sam admonished, “Dozens upon dozens I’m sure! What did you get in return from her? More responsibility!  As if that was rewarding enough!”

            “It wasn’t that bad!  She wasn’t a terrible mom,” Melissa protested, “We had a lot of freedom to do what we wanted, just so long as we didn’t lie to her.”

            “And therein lies the problem and why our Uncle figured we’d all end up in jail. Mom lucked out we didn’t get in more trouble.  I think of some of the crap I did and never got caught!  What kind of parenting is that?” He said with a frown.

            “I know! I know!” Melissa sighed, “That’s what I need to work on is admitting I tolerated the intolerable from mom.  I’ve always coped by comparing her to others who are ever so much worse than she was.  I have to stop doing that and look at how it really was.  Not cover it up with my go to; that’s just the way she is and always will be.”

            “Isn’t that what each of us has done?” Sam rhetorically asked, “Bought into the image Mom’s painted of herself. A Gypsy and proud of it. So, her kids should be as well. She likes thinking that’s what made us strong independent people, and there is a degree of truth in it.  I know a niece reinforced that in mom by telling her how she envied our self-confidence.  That was such a feather in mom’s cap.”

            “Don’t you think mom should get some credit for that?  I mean we are self-confident, successful people.”

            “Sis, it’s not because of her. It’s in spite of her. As I said, she lucked out. We made our own choices, and had to at a young age. What I want you to realize is we wouldn’t have been able to if you hadn’t been there for us.”

            “I hear what you’re saying,” Melissa softly said, “I had a melt down one day with Naomi. Trying to understand why it seemed easy for you and Jen to be so disengaged and done with mom.  She explained it was because I was there as your safety net, so you were free too.  As teenagers, you guys stopped respecting mom and were done with her.  I couldn’t and wasn’t able to because I was the parent.  Not only to you guys, but mom as well.  I remember a cousin telling me one time that it was as if I were the mom and mom the kid.  Jen’s told me when mom really wanted her to feel like she was in big trouble, she’d tell her; ‘I’m calling and telling Melissa what you did.’ I mean, how wrong is that!  It’s a wonder you guys don’t resent me, big time!”

            “What makes you think we don’t?” Sam smirked with a gleam in his eye then added, “Seriously Sis, I know all this mom crap has been eating at you. You need to let it go and get on with your life!”

            “Let’s just say I’m a work in progress,” she shyly replied.  “Naomi has given me some great, practical tools for “getting well.”  I’m getting there, honest.”

            “Good! You paid your dues with mom!  To hell with the people who don’t understand and think just because she’s old and a mom she deserves a pass on her shitty behavior as a mom,” he emphatically stated.

            Melissa laughed, “Leave it to you to cut to the chase! I still think your description of how she sounded on the phone when she called for your address is the best ever!”

            “You liked that did you!”  He said more than asked as he bobbed his eyebrows.

            “Big time!  I mean seriously, her cheese is really slipping off her cracker!  That was awesome!”  Melissa giggled as Sam let out a deep belly laugh.

            “What are you knot heads carrying on about?” Ed said startling the two of them.

            “Hey old man,” Sam stood, shook his brother-in-law’s hand and hugged him, “good to see you.”

            “Looks like you survived the drive down,” Ed slapped Sam on the back. 

            “Barely!” Sam grimaced, “I-5 is a royal pain in the arse!”

            “Better you than me,” Ed grinned wryly, “So what’s so funny?”

            “I reminded Sam of how he’d described mom slipping into dementia,” Melissa explained.

            “Oh, yea the cracker thing!”  Ed chuckled, “that was great!”

            “Of course, mom doesn’t think that’s the case,” Sam stated the obvious, “Just wait till her mind slips ever farther.  Now that’ll be very entertaining!”

            “You’ll be the one with a front row seat,” Melissa reminded him.

            “No problem,” Sam stated, “Like I told you, I’m waiting for the day I can say everything I’ve ever wanted to her. Knowing by the next day she’ll have forgotten it!”

            “More power to ya!” Melissa said.

            “You're more than welcome to join me,” Sam grinned.

            “No thank-you,” she shivered, “like I told her, if she ever sees me again it’ll be when she doesn’t know who I am.  But enough of mom. Ed why don’t you show Sam your new boat seats.  Maybe that’ll entice him to come back down and go fishing with you.”

            The men wandered out to the garage discussing boats, rods and how the worst day of fishing beat the best day of working.  Melissa tidied the kitchen and stilled the storm that threatened to rage within her, very thankful Sam had come down. He helped keep mother crap in perspective.  He and Jen were the only people who fully understood. There were plenty of tactics she could learn from them on how to handle the emotional baggage of their mom. She was grateful they were of the same mind set and had one another to lean on. If only those who didn’t understand were willing to listen to their stories. 

Twenty-One

            Melissa smiled, grateful for such a caring friend as Jan whose actions spoke louder than words.  Stopping by unexpectantly was so like her.  Jan always said what she appreciated most about their forty years of friendship was they never tried to change one another. Her thoughts wandered through kind paths of fellowship where the two of them had walked over the years. She felt blessed.

            Which by comparison contradicted the trite hodge-podge of emotions that flooded her soul when she thought of her mother. But it was a needed flood and not trite, she reminded herself.  For it meant the victim shovel was doing its work of unburying emotions.  A season for exposed emotion upon emotion just as God revealed things line upon line.

            “I am a captive set free!”  Melissa spontaneously declared.  “Restored to health that I might live an abundant life!”

            “What?”  Ed hollered from the kitchen, “You want something?”

            “No!” she grinned and yelled back, “Just talking to myself!”

            She heard him grumble. Smart man that he was, knew to leave well enough alone as to what he’d mumbled. He’d probably shook his head, thinking it best to take his coffee to the garage and lay low for a while. “Smart man,” she said as the door shut with a thud!

            Melissa laughed as she shuffled and sorted papers.  She was determined to make a dent in the pile that had built up on her desk.  Several things need to be pitched and another pile formed to be filed. There was always the miscellaneous pile that seemed to have a life of its own.  As usual, those papers were at the bottom, some had been there awhile.

            She stopped short when at the very bottom was a copy of the letter, she’d written to her mother the year before.  Of all the days to come across it; her mother’s birthday. 

            “Wow,” she whispered then slowly read it. 

Mother,

          I want you to know what I mean by “I am done.”

I will not answer your phone calls or call you.

I will delete your texts without reading them and I will not text you.

I will not open or read any cards or letters you send and I will not be sending you any cards or letters.

I will block you on Facebook and Instagram as well as any family or friends that could tell you what they see on my pages.

I will not visit you when I come to Arizona.

I want to be removed as your emergency contact information.

I want my name removed as the beneficiary on your life insurance policy.

Anne will now be the family member you turn to and depend on for help.  She will be responsible for having you cremated and ashes scattered.

These are not threat’s they are facts and I will not change my mind once you move.

This is what I mean by “I am done” if you “feel” you need to choose to be “independent and gypsy” rather than a relationship with your “dearest children.”

Melissa

            A flood of memories and emotions overwhelmed her heart and mind.  From the outside looking in the tone could be mistaken as harsh and unforgiving. Her emotions had been raw and ragged. Her mother heard it as hateful and mean, others agreed with her. They even told Melissa she’d given her mother ammunition to react and think that way about her because of the letter.

            She remembered the sleepless hours spent wracked with guilt that perhaps they were right.  When asked why she’d written such a letter, she explained it was an attempt to put the brakes on her mother’s foolish need to move, again.  She had to try something unexpected and never done before, define to her mother consequences for her actions.  The simple definition of insanity was trying the same thing and expecting different results. Melissa had to try something radically different, hoping for the impossible of shocking her mother into listening for once.

Hard to believe a year and a half had passed since she’d last seen or talked to her.  A year ago, she’d been immersed in battling the throes of depression because of her mother.  Ed had pressured her to seek counseling.  She’d resisted thinking, this too will pass. It hadn’t, but only got worse.  Finally, she’d sought counseling and ever so grateful for having done so.  It scared her to think if she’d waited any longer, she probably would have crossed that one more point on the depression scale into clinical depression.  She never ever wanted to be in such a dark place again.

Now she understood her depression had been the result of living a lifetime of tolerating the intolerable. The time had finally come to cease tolerating being forced to accept emotional betrayal and abandonment; just because that’s the way mother had and always would be. As the obedient, eldest, golden child it had been her duty to honor a narcissist mother regardless of her actions and cover her oh so many sins with love and acceptance.  It was a good Christian thing to do.

“If only it were that simple,” Melissa whispered.  She read the letter again, hearing what others could or would not.  It was a letter of desperation.  Desperate for a mother’s unconditional love.  Desperate that maybe, just maybe, she would choose her child over her own desires.  Pure desperation for what she’d always longed for, a mom.

It had taken months of counseling to realize she had no need to feel guilty.  Her mother’s choices were not her responsibility.  It was ok to be done.  To define what that meant.  The letter had been the catalyst for unleashing a lifetime of suppressed anger at having been abandoned and betrayed time and again.  A child’s desperate anger that cried out with a voice longing to finally be heard, unfortunately, that did not happened. 

            The circumstances surrounding her mother’s move had become a chaotic mess.  Looking back Melissa recognized if things hadn’t happened, the way they had, and despite the letter she would in all likely hood still be in contact with her mother.  For reasons beyond her control that was not the case. 

Melissa stared out the window pondering whether to recall the events of that time.  Would it act as a trigger leading to a depressive state?  Or was she ready to honestly remember and embrace it as a wound receiving its scar? Could she handle the emotions it unburied? Lord is it time? She silently asked.

Avoid the avoiders, Naomi had told her.  Avoidance was Melissa’s go to when confronted with undefined buried emotions.  What was she feeling in this moment?  She reached for her journal, found the emotion paper and discovered the words that best described what she felt.  Disconnected and ruffled. Why? She wondered with a frown.  Because she was afraid of what she’d feel if she acknowledged that desperate child who wrote the letter.

She’d never thought of the letter that way, an expression of desperation.  It had been birthed out of an anger and level of frustration she’d never given way to before.  Even her brother Sam had said he’d never heard her that angry, and when he’d asked why she couldn’t find words to explain why.  There had been a pure rawness to the rip she’d felt in her soul when her mother had decided to move behind her back. Then think it was okay to give her a letter to explain her reasons and for her to read it to Sam and Jen rather than tell them herself.  A searing pierced and ripped her heart asunder in that unforgettable moment frozen in time. 

A heart that didn’t know how to ask for what it needed. But reacted with a lifetime of pent up anger, some might call rage.  Perhaps that’s what she needed to acknowledge to herself was the degree of rage her mother’s betrayal had finally revealed.  A rage of desperation and longing that she had never allowed herself to feel, nor had others allowed her to.  Afterall it was her responsibility to be the stable one, be the rudder, maintain the illusion of stability and peace. 

It ruffled her to think others misunderstood and thought so little of her as to believe the narrative or lies her mother told about what happened. She felt judged. So, she had disconnected her emotions thinking, once again, she was protecting herself.  Afterall it’s what she’d always done. But this time it hadn’t worked. Instead depression had become an insidious taskmaster demanding she submit and rely on its darkness to protect her emotions.  What a liar!

Thankfully she was learning how to recognize and not believe the lies.  God’s lovingkindness supplied what she needed in those moments.  She’d chosen to seek the truth which prevailed over the lies.  Truth to set her captive emotions free.  Give herself permission to be misunderstood as she wrestled with her undefined simmering buried rage.

It reminded her of how Alaska’s summer’s forest fires had been explained.  The spring had been dry, with unseasonably low rain falls, record breaking heat and extreme winds stirred the fire into a frenzy.  The tundra’s duff had been exceedingly dry because of lack of permafrost.  As a result, the fire pierced to a foot deep and simmered just waiting for the right conditions to create a fire that burned not only above ground but deep into the roots.  A fire difficult to fight and bring under control. 

Only experienced professional fire fighters had been successful in managing the fire before conditions cooperated and allowed them to contain it.  There was still the threat in the following spring that with the right conditions the fire had simmered in the duff all winter and would flare up again. 

Melissa didn’t want to be like that fire.  With professional help she wanted to contain her rage and learn how to manage it when it flared.  Then and only then could she know she’d put it out for good.  But she didn’t want to ignore its potential either.  Fire was good for healing a forest and making way for new growth.  God said His fire burned away life’s dross. So too, her personal fires were to be a time of healing and new growth.

She had never expected her mother’s narcissism to be the catalyst that unleashed a fire to burn the dross of tolerating the intolerable. Only God in Heaven knew why at sixty-two years old it was time for such drastic measures to set her free.  Her mother was eighty and seemingly in need of her children to care for her as the mind slipped into dementia and body succumbed to aging.

Yet God used the foolish things of the world to confound the wise. Not being there for her mother seemed oh so foolish.  But Melissa knew that she knew her mother was in God’s very capable hands of making sure her needs would be met.  She may not trust her mother, but more importantly she trusted God to do as He’d promised. 

Melissa raised the letter and remembered the circumstances which caused her to write it.  There were no regrets, only a sadness for having felt the need to write it.  She couldn’t help but indulge in a few, if only this had been said or done differently than… But in all reality, it would have been an effort in futility and she’d been stuck in the intolerable for the rest of her life, even after her mother passed. 

            One thing she did know, she would not know the why of the purpose of this mess until she stood face to face with her Father in Heaven.  For now, she was to be obedient and not sacrifice herself to what others expected of her concerning mother.  The ache in her soul that longed for the touch of a nurturing mother’s love cried out with an indescribable pain.  A forgotten child’s buried wound of desperation in need of a scar.