Do I Feel Real

Sorry for the break. Been sick. Still am, actually.

Got to thinking about feelings today. Not sure why. Made a post along this same thought on The Great Sea. I don't trust feelings, but like so many I am strongly directed by them. Sometimes I wish that weren't so. Feelings lie. Sometimes.

Specifically, I was remembering growing up in a household in which Mother believed feelings were more real than anything. Thus, whatever she happened to be feeling at the time was true. Sometimes this was okay. Sometimes it wasn't.

How many times did I hear her tell me how she absolutely hated me? She would scream it at the top of her lungs while hitting me with whatever was handy. She believed it. It was what she felt. Thirty or forty minutes later she felt otherwise. Then it was how much she loved me. It was the same for all of us kids.

Daddy never said things like that. He got angry. Very angry sometimes. But he never said he hated me. Or any of his children. He never said he wished we had never been born. Mother did. He never called us names. Mother did. In my whole life, Daddy only hit me five times that I remember. I couldn't begin to count the times Mother hit me. Daddy didn't yell. Mother did.

At the same time, Daddy was not there to bring us to school events. Mother was. And she did. She also failed to bring Gayanne and me home after a school event one night. The last janitor of the night finally drove us home at midnight. We got slapped for coming home late.

But Mother brought us to wherever we needed to go. She made sure the food was in the house. She made sure we got to the doctor. She b*tched and moaned about it the entire time, but she did it. As Mickey used to say: "Mother will give you the shirt off her back. And then remind you of it for the rest of your life."

Perhaps you're thinking I don't care much for Mother. That I even dislike her. There have been more than a few times I have felt that way. But the truth is I no more hate my mother than my mother hates me. Mother was given her own set of problems long before I was born. It was just my fortune (and that of my siblings) to have to experience the side-effects of those problems.

However, while I acknowledge my love, Mother and I have hardly been close. Visits have been few. She has asked more than once to babysit/look after my son so Spouse and I could have time to ourselves. I have never given him to her custody for even a minute. I will not put him at that risk. Even as she aged she continued in the behavior with her grandchildren. I wanted this grandchild to love her. And he does. He has never had to suffer the consequences of Mother's problems. But we are not close.

Mother has cancer.

She called me last Friday and told me. First she called Judayl. Then she called me. There was no one else to call. Lynahr is gone. Ranlan is up north. Gayanne is in Iowa (found that out this weekend). Mickey is in New Mexico. Helvie is somewhere not too far from me, but she doesn't answer the telephone. Certainly not when Mother calls.

Mother is scared. Wouldn't you be? I was shook when she told me. So was Judayl. We contacted Mickey. He's the strong one. He was shook. Mother eventually got in touch with Gayanne. She's the one who left the family. She was shook. Haven't heard about Helvie.

They seem to have caught the cancer early, but there are other tests to be done. Judayl, Spouse and I went to the doctor with Mother last Tuesday. Didn't learn much except she has a careful doctor who doesn't rush into things. He wants to be sure. He want to be thorough. He wants to be safe. There is another meeting on Monday with the surgeon, I believe. Judayl can't go to that, so she asked me to. If I am well, I will. Still requiring a close proximity to a bathroom.

For all Mother has said and done to us children, we are still shook at the prospect of her leaving. This after learning back in '76 she had leukemia. It's been in remission, but the past two years she's been taking chemotherapy for it. Now this. I think what Mother's children are feeling now is more real than the feelings we had during beatings and beratings. That's history. It's over. It no longer has any meaning. This is real. This isn't about feelings. Whether we feel like it or not, the cancer is there.

You know what I find most puzzling? All those times Mother made me so angry, I can't recall ever telling her I hated her, or anything like that. I just cried. Maybe I did but just don't remember. I don't know. Daddy hardly ever got mad at me. Yet the last time he did, he tried to apologize. Said he loved me. I lied to him and said I didn't believe that. He believed me. I never told him I was sorry. I never told him I loved him. Less than a year later he was gone.

I have not made the same mistake with Mother.