Processing Grief Through the Lens of Estrangement

 It should come as no surprise that I'd take pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) to handle grief through some form of writing, or journaling in this case.

Found out that my mother died in her sleep last night.

She had been in a nursing home for some years, unhealthy both physically and psychologically.  I saw a steady decline in her (in every way) following the death of her mother in 1994 -- something she clearly never healed from.  And then the death of my stepfather in 2007 -- another sad milestone from which she never recovered. 

I don't know the statistics, but it feels as though someone of my age (46 -- turning 47 in a few months) shouldn't have this many notable losses within family.  I've lost two beloved uncles (father figures), my biological father (whom I had little contact with past the age of 10), my stepfather (he was my father growing up), my maternal grandmother (a prominent fixture in my life until she died when I was only 20), and now -- my mother.  Is that a lot?  For such a relatively young age?  I don't know, but it sure feels like it.

I won't go into the details of why my mother and I were estranged.  Frankly, the idea of writing an autobiography has long been on my to-do list, where no doubt -- dirty laundry may sometime see the light of day.  It's my story to tell, and telling makes for better healing.

I completed a script called MOM DIED back in 2019, and the title might suggest the screenplay's main topic.  And it was indeed therapeutic for me, laying open old wounds and old beefs I (once upon a time) had with my mother -- all seen through the lens of a zombie film.  There were times while writing MOM DIED where I actually broke down, reliving some of the dysfunction of my younger years.

My interactions with my mother were limited over the past many years.  I last saw her in 2017, when the other half and I vacationed in the Black Hills.  She was in bad shape then, but still living in her own home.  It was clear from that time, although I was happy to see her, that our once-strong connection was simply no longer clear or bright or powerful.

I had a "come to Jesus" phone call with her a few years back, and despite her best efforts to sort of bridge that ever-expanding gap -- the connection was lost.

There was still the obligatory phone calls.  But the magic of our bond was missing.  

I won't go into specifics at this time.  There's no need to besmirch the woman -- she's been gone but a few hours.

I had a dream last night (not sure when, but the timing is more than coincidence).  It was an unrelated "acting performance drama/anxiety" dream, but it was powerful enough to wake me up.  And my heart was RACING.  I had to sorta bring myself down upon waking up, checking the pulse in my neck, taking some deep breaths...  eventually falling asleep again.

But this weird, overly dramatic dream -- could it have been at the same time as mom died?  Is that possible?

Which begs the question... perhaps our bond wasn't as tepid as I have believed all of these years.  

My last call with my mother was probably a month or so ago.  Our calls over the years have become more and more infrequent.  There's nothing to talk about really.  She was ill, so it was always a discussion of her medical conditions, and not much more.  She tried to feign interest in the workings of my life, but it was always so damned shallow.  That wasn't always the case, she was a pillar of support for my artistic achievements when I was younger, but as time went on -- it was clear that she really didn't care much -- at least that's my view of the situation.

The call was about the fact that she couldn't get ahold of my younger brother.  He's been the only one truly involved in her affairs, lo these many years.  She was worried, so she called me.  Not to see how I was doing, but to check on my brother.  The call ended with her finding out that said brother was on the other line, so she needed to jump off and take that call.  I told her "I love you", and the call ended with an "uh-huh" from her, then the call was over.

I've taken that "uh-huh" as a "let me get off the line to talk to your brother", but also a possible, "I know you've been questioning for a long time, if you actually believe that anymore."  

Probably a bit of both -- let's be honest.

So it's with a heavy heart that I say farewell to my mother.  She's not suffering anymore, and that gives me some relief.  I never thought that over these many years, that she had any decent quality of life.

And while mental and physical illness are sometimes out of one's control, many times they're not.  And so as her life went on, and I grew up and I more clearly understood some of the things from my childhood -- my sympathies began to wane, severely.

We have the power to make our lives better, and so if someone doesn't make that choice, I can't spare any positivity for that.

Again, not to downplay issues of depression or self doubt -- they're real and I know that -- but you can change.  You can try.  If you never did, then frankly, that's not my problem and not a burden I can take on.

Blunt, but true.

This is a meandering thought process, laid out in epic Klug "tell-all" fashion.

My mom's dead, and in any grief situation, there's plenty of weird tangents and off-shoots and processing of multiple emotions -- so I know I'm not alone in this. 

But each of us has our own perspective, our own beefs and our own lifetime of experiences to color how we handle the loss of a loved one, or a parent specifically.

My friend asked how I was doing.

My response?  Something along the lines of  "I'm not okay, but I am okay, if that makes any sense."

I'm not okay.  My mom's gone.  In her fragile health of the past many years, there was never a proper time to completely unburden myself or have a true heart to heart.  There were glimpses of my calling out things in the past, but it was never splayed out on the table to be dissected, discussed and addressed.

Kind of shitty when you think about it.

There will no doubt be plenty of additional things to unearth in light of her demise.

Just in the few hours since I learned of her death, I've felt relief, immense grief, resentment and who knows what else?  On top of that, I feel physically dizzy, at one point feeling like I was going to pass out.

The bottom line here is that I hope my mother has found some sort of peace.  I'm no longer much of a religious guy, so I don't know if there's anything beyond our mortal coil.  Whether mom is gonna see her long-gone beloved family members, or if she's just gone.  Whatever it is, she's released from her many demons.

And I hope that speaks for my siblings and myself as well.  We don't need to feel guilt or pity or anger over my mother any longer.

Hopefully, time will allow for us to reflect more keenly on the good times.

Despite what I'm writing here, yes -- there were good times.

Susan Patricia.

I love you.  I truly do.

And I'm happy to know that these were my final words to you.

Despite your rushed and unenthused "uh-huh" to complete that final interaction, I hope you know that -- despite the fact that these words may have sounded forced during so many exchanges over the past many years...

In fact -- these words were always and always will be -- true.

RIP, Mothra... finally.