It's been decades in the making, but my biological mother is dead. Should I laugh? Should I cry? Should I be angry? Should I feel nothing? I don't know. I didn't even know she was seriously ill. For all I knew, she was suffering from her ongoing list of complaints that she's had for the last decade, and none of that seemed major. Not when the complaints came from her, anyway. People hear about my woes and they tend to worry, but only because I worry about others. I care about others. My biological mother...cared about one person: herself. So even her major complaints were overlooked as being trivial.
This, of course, does not apply to Stu, with whom she was living. Stu had to take everything as a serious complaint and deal with it as best as possible. From what little information I have, my biological mother was in the hospital for some reason, and they were going to do some kind of procedure on her today. But the hospital called Stu last night to say that she had died. And that's just about all I know.
As part of trying to process this information, I called Julie. Yes, I have my beloved Becky here, but Julie has known me longer and has actually lived through some of the crap I've had to endure via my biological mother's callus attitude. In a bizarre, Twilight Zone kind of moment, Julie said that she dreamt of me last night, and spent the dream hugging me almost continuously for some mysterious reason. But even Julie isn't sure how I should feel. I have plenty of reasons to blow this off as worthless news...but I also have plenty of unresolved anger and hurt feelings as to how my relationship with that woman went. I wrote not long ago about how I'll never have any kind of closure with my biological mother, and now that's been assured. As I told Becky, "Going to the funeral won't resolve anything for me, because yelling at a corpse isn't productive." (Or something like that.)
My father gave me funeral information on the off chance I'd want to go. It's not a complete lack of desire. Some part of me would at least want to see her off to the great beyond, whatever that may hold for her. (It wouldn't surprise me to see Satan attending, saying, "Oh, I've waited a long time for this one!") But I have a renewed cold this morning, a possible further collapse of the arch in my foot, (also on this very morning), Becky starts school again on Monday, the day of the funeral, and we haven't the spare money for an impromptu trip to NY. And in this case, time is too short for us to rely on the donations of others to get me there in time.
Which is rather different from when my grandmother, my biological mother's mother, died so many years ago. When my biological mother received word, she simply refused to go. Her stupid reasoning for not going? "I don't want to seem like a hypocrite." My biological mother could hang on to her anger for a long, long time. In fact, she never let go of it. Thus, her children paid the price for the continued cycle of abuse.
And so...my phone is charging. (It was starting to show signs of death during my call to Julie.) I've taken anti-anxiety meds. Now all that remains is a call to Stu, which is sure to be eventful.
Be well, all, and DFTBA.