Mom

There is no one in my little office at the moment. It is just me, waiting for them to come back from a closing. I’m not sure I can leave to get lunch, they might need something, dunno. Anyway, I plan on playing some serious yahoo games in just a moment, but figured I’d write in the blog.

I’ve been writing a lot about mom, and the burden of mom, and the sadness behind mom. Yet I haven’t really discussed my mom, and how she was before, and who she is and what she was.

It might come across, I realized, like I don’t care for her. Its okay, lots of people don’t much care for their parents, they love them of course, but when it comes down to it, it’s “eh”.

But my mom was my best friend; I told her pretty much everything, ex boyfriends would be shocked to hear what I tell my mom.

She married a man she loved, when she was older, I think she was 26 or something, in those days, that was old. He had a wavering sexuality and a wavering mind and a wavering liver that craved the alcohol. Mom had 4 kids, 3 boys, 1 girl (that’s me!). And once hubby/daddy went overboard with the drink, mom divorced him. So mom was stuck in one of the richest neighborhoods, had never really held a job before, and had 4 kids and a husband she adored, but had to leave.

She married my stepfather soon after, an exact opposite of my creative, genius-like father and he became our enemy, and hers. He always “did the right thing”, but he always did it wrong, and he tried to change each and every one of us, and each of us told him to fuck off. Not literally, but as children, we had the thought.

My mother is/was hilarious. Strong, sarcastic, casual in dress. She smoked and drank Tab (hmmm, wonder where I get it from?). She taught us about art and beauty and that they were more important than anything. Way more than money, way more. She took us to Paris and Italy, she took us to see Sondheim, she made sure her daughter never compromised anything for a man, but was sympathetic when I did. She would say terrible hilarious things, teaching us we can say anything, AS LONG AS ITS FUNNY ENOUGH. Her mind was quick and clever and smart as a whip.

She battled depression her whole life, never really knowing what she wanted but knowing she wanted something. An aspect that is exacerbated now, by a million fold.

She was taking care of my stepfather who was sick with diabetes. He ended up moving to a nursing home for a short while as he recovered. Mom had finally found the peace she was always looking for. Al was gone, mom was alone. Happiness perhaps. Except her back was killing her.

She went in for back surgery this past March, and had a stroke that night. She is paralyzed on her left side. The stroke, coupled with the pain of back surgery, was something I hope to never have to experience with someone again.

She remains in bed, most of the day. She sees friends here and there and her children once a week. She has a private duty nurse named Judy who helps her get through the day. She believes she can drive a car, go to Maine and go shopping and then flips back into reality where she sees she can do none of those things. How horrible. She lives for nothing essentially, except seeing her children here and there. Other than that, depression and extreme want have taken over, the small fraction of sophistication or grace that she had, is now gone.

There are moments now, when I can’t remember what she was like before, she is so who she is now, I can’t remember how she was. But I know this, I think of her every morning as soon as I wake up, I think about her all day and I think about her going to bed. Everything that happens to me was something I would tell her. We all did. It makes me sad that my confidante is lost, the one person who really cared about everything I thought, she’s gone. Our mom, for the most part, has passed away. And we are left now with a sad shell, with a few hilarious comments and deep thoughts built in.

My stepfather continues to live in Maine, in a huge beautiful house by himself, he’s finished with her, he continues to pay for her care, but the rest of her care is upon our shoulders. He tends to make this exceedingly difficult, blocking us most of the way.

I love her, I miss her and most of all, I hope this time for her ends fairly soon.

So I just wanted to explain a little more, about her and my feelings for her. And that very often my detachment or sarcasm is to cover the sadness. As it so often is with us “funny people”.