Things I Learned From My Mother

My mother has been dead 5 years today. I didn't speak to my mother the last 15 years of her life. My last words to her were............at best, unconscionable. We had argued about my grandfather's death. He became ill and I had flown back from Texas to await the inevitable. In the weeks that followed she and I got into a big blow out. Long story short, she mailed me my grandfather's obituary - two weeks after his death. I never got to say goodbye. I never got to attend his funeral. He adored me and I him. And so for years I held that resentment against her (that and for kidnapping my child but that's another story). She made some snide comment to me one day regarding my grandfather and the funeral; something to the effect I'd probably never come to hers. "oh I'll be there", I yelled at her, "if for no other reason than to make sure it's your cold, dead body in the casket! You're crazy, you've always been crazy, and I'm not going to be crazy for you!" Click. Hung up and never spoke to her again.
My mother went to her grave believing I hated her. And perhaps for a time I did. I will have to live with that..........somehow.
About a year ago I made my amends to my mother from the back of a Harley (hey! I gotta be me! LOL) and for the most part, I was pretty much at peace with it - more than I ever had been anyway. But this day I reflect.
As much as she and I never got along, I did learn from her. She did manage to instill certain values in me.
My mother was a tortured soul on this earth; a bitter, abusive woman. An alcoholic. Her alcoholism took her life. She refused to acknowledge her disease and I never brought it up, but my dad did for years. He always referred to her as a drunk and would stick her in a ritzy sanitarium for a few months a year and that was the extent of her sobriety. That was back when the husband's word was law and he was legally allowed to abuse his wife!
So today, as I look back, as bad as it was with my mother, I loved her anyway. I protected her when she was defenseless; I took her tirades when I didn't deserve it; I raised my little brother from the time he was 9 because she turned on him. (and at 42 he's still not over it). I would drive her home when I was 12 so she wouldn't wreck the car or kill herself or someone else. I would put her to bed in my bedroom so my father wouldn't torture her in her sleep (something he enjoyed doing, the sick bastard). I did my part.
"what would you say to your mother if she were standing right in front of you?" asked my sponsor a year ago. I'd say, "I accept that you were sick. You did the best you could. And I love you." "There," said my sponsor, "you made your amends."
I've made my amends.
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