Troubled Heart and Mind

I've been trying to get back into the normal swing of things...housework, cutting firewood, baking, job searching, etc. On the surface, I'm doing okay. I do miss Dad and I do have my moments. But mostly I'm okay. I just look at the prayer card from his service. Under his picture it says, "I'm fine, gone home, love and God bless" All things Dad said to us all, especially in the last few days. It makes me smile because I know it's true and that he's happy.

I knew with his passing it was likely things with some people in my family would deteriorate. Most of you know enough to know my relationship with my mother is shaky at the best of times, as is the relationships with my half-siblings. I have learned to distance myself from as much of the drama as possible for my own sanity. (Yes, I mean that quite literally, just ask anyone who has known me more than ten years). It is ironic that I had a better relationship with Dad, despite a very rocky beginning. For his sake, I've made an effort with the rest of the family. I figured at least I could keep the peace, even when it meant keeping my mouth shut (okay, I would vent to friends after). I continued to do so to a point the past few months (okay, so I'm not always great at keeping my mouth shut). But whatever decisions people felt they had to make, I went along with it.

Despite my best efforts, things are going south quicker than I thought they would. Some of it is typical to long established family patterns. I've gotten few metaphorical kicks to the gut, but with the support of some friends, I got through it. But the last one is one I'm not sure I can get past. I was somewhat dreading the actual committal service at the cemetery. I have a love/hate thing going on with the military rites. It is an important honor to bestow and at the same time, it is a reminder of Daddy. Bittersweet at best. I had prepared myself for it and for dealing with some people who I'd rather not deal with. I arrived early at St. Pat's so I could take flowers to Daddy's grave before the ceremony. Imagine my surprise to see the American Legion members leaving.

It seems the ceremony was moved up an hour. No one, namely my mother, called to tell me. No one it seems noticed I wasn't there or called to see if I was coming. I missed the whole thing. Needless to say I was not happy. I left the pink rose for Dad, the red rose for Daddy, said hello and goodbye to family I do like and left. Quickly, because I knew I was on the verge of throwing a fit that would make my sister's (Liz, not Theresa) look mild. (And that is saying something) Kristi got the brunt of the reaction I couldn't control when I got home. At that point, I was mainly hurt. I buried the anger fast so I could process it under a controlled situation.

I wish I could believe my mother didn't do it intentionally. But after a few of the other slights over that week and a half, not to mention over my lifetime, I cannot seem to convince myself of it. I've been through this type of thing before with her. I haven't decided whether or not to call her on it. One, I'm still furious and I have a vile temper. I do not like to lose control of it because I know what I can be like. Two, I've been down this road before...my mother doesn't take responsibility for her actions when these things happen.

I don't know I have the energy, let alone the desire to go through this again. The funny thing is, if anyone understood how much energy having a relationship with my mother took, it was Dad. So for now, I will sit with it some more. Maybe something will come to me. Because honestly, at the moment, I'd like nothing better to walk away for good.