Aimless

When your Mom dies

you kind of loose your way...

an epiphany that settled on me years ago after observing it unfold several times no matter age, gender, race or any other categorical divider.

Now is my time to wander...

~K

Friday

 

I loved Nan for 25 years, but I only knew her for 17. And for the first 17 years of my life, she was my safe place.

    From the moment I could "solid" food till one day when I was 17, I would spend every Friday night at her house. That house was like a time warp, a safety bubble of my very own. Friday was where I left my troubles at the door, a problem for another day. It didn't matter what the week brought me, Friday was smiles, laughter and adventure. Friday was ours.

    Nan was one of those people who silently helped others. She was never someone who got deep into things with me, but in her own way helped me through so much. She had a way of guiding me without me always knowing it. Now that I am older I've realized the questions she'd occasionally ask me - such as "how are things at home" - was her gentle way of checking in on me and mom.

    She wasn't perfect, but she was mine. And she loved me fiercely, something only rivaled by my moms love for me. Not a day goes by that I don't miss her. But then again I think I've really been missing her since I was 17 and I stopped spending Friday nights with her. What I wouldn't give to make that decision over again - but I didn't know, then, that we were on borrowed time.

~ C

Scarlet Letter

She wasn't perfect. She was fiercely mine though.

Left alone to clean out her house I came across several sentimental treasures; and a surprising revelation.

In the back of a dusty shallow spare bedroom closet was pushed a 2-drawer file cabinet, the old metal kind with that slight smell of oxidation. Handwritten letters she'd held on to throughout decades and at least 4 house moves revealed the affair.

Young, only a few years married and long before I was even a thought, she'd had a lover. I was altogether both shocked and intrigued! Although she and my father were both undeniably attractive as well as competitive, I couldn't imagine my Mother ever entertaining an affair.

But, then again, with righteous indignation I would have called you a liar if you'd told me I would too. Over time this unexpected find would prove to reframe how I understand maturity, interpersonal relationships, and grace.

~K

Shattered

Addiction stole my life. The worst part, I wasn't even the addict. And the more I heal, the more I realize; not only how valid my anger was, but how much I actually underreacted.
    I was 17,18 & 19. My boyfriend was 17, 18 & 19. My mom was 47, 48 & 49. My dad was 51, 52 & 53, and she was 23, 24 & 25...when you do the math, it was no different than if my mom dated my boyfriend. That's how young my dads "side piece" was.
    Both he and she were addicted to alcohol, he was (is?) also addicted to porn. He had been for a long time. The worst part? Knowing what it was like to have a good dad before the addiction stole it away.
    Now before I get too far into the nasty details, I want to stop and say that I am in no way excusing his behavior. He was a grown man, one I looked up to, and he had a loving supportive family he could have turned to for help at any time. But more than that, no one forced him into these addictions, these were his decisions that landed him where he is. Though that doesn't mean mom and I didn't bare the consequences of his actions.

~ C