Wow! That is even hard to type let alone know that I am going to send this out to the public to view, read, and possibly be judged by it. But, it’s true and it’s something that I am finally coming to terms with. When I say coming to terms with, I mean I’m processing it all as I think, cry, write and remember.
I finished reading The Murmur of Bees by Sofia Segovia last night – in between sobs, my nose dripping down my face and deep breaths of agony. How could I keep reading with all of that going on? I just kept swiping at my tears, blowing my nose and refocusing on my kindle. I HAD to know what the character, Francisco, was going to say about the years of resentment he had for his beloved brother. I was Francisco and Francisco was me. I HAD to find out what happened… and what was going to happen to me!
Francisco’s resentment stemmed from feeling abandoned. I felt the same exact way and can recall the first day I felt the first heart-crushing blow as an adult. I was 43 and in a horrible relationship with a narcissistic alcoholic after divorcing my husband of twenty years. On the phone with my mom one night, after breaking it off with him twice and getting back together, she said she wouldn’t be able to speak with me again until I left him. It was too painful for her to know that I was hurting myself in such a way. Of course at the time, I couldn’t see that at all, well, I had an inkling, but always dismissed those feelings because narcissists are really good at manipulation! Anyway, all I felt was that she was shutting the door on me – leaving me alone – turning her back – abandoning me. You’d think such a statement would snap me out of my relationship hypnosis, but that took another six months.
Since my mother had lived on the other side of the country and I didn’t see her often, it was somewhat easy for me to set the betrayal I felt to the side. Of course, it never left me and would come up in my thoughts at night, when I woke in the morning, and when I looked at my daughter who wouldn’t have a grandmother to talk to either. I carried on, finally restarting on my own as a single person, knowing that the typical rebound relationship I was in had to end and I made sure that it did. Even though I called to let my mom know that I had ended the relationship, I never really trusted her not to abandon me again and felt a chasm between us I had never felt before.
The second blow, the one that knocked me to my knees, was the day she said she wouldn’t let me fly her in for my wedding. I was then 47. I found the love of my life, the perfect person for me and she didn’t want to come. She had her reasons, but all I felt was a deep stake in my heart. At that time in my life I hid most of my feelings, said it was okay and hung up the phone. I crumbled to the floor, doubled over in pain. I sat there for a long time crying – hard, angry sobs, gulping for air. For a moment, I actually thought I might stop breathing. Survival instincts won out and I eventually got up on my feet again and carried on like a good little trooper – onward and upward! Ha! Who needed her? I even fooled myself!
For the remainder of her years, which came to an end when I was 53, I continued to feel like she had completely abandoned me – me, my brother, my daughter and my niece and nephew for that matter! But back to me – because that was my focus for all those years – me. Why did she abandon me? What was wrong with me that she didn’t want to see me? Be with me? Be with her granddaughter? Did she not love me like I loved her? Did she not need me like I needed her? I convinced myself that all of these beliefs were true. I loved her. She didn’t love me. I needed her. She didn’t need me. I didn’t leave her. She left me.
In The Murmur of Bees, Francisco held these feelings toward his brother for almost his entire life, until he was a great-grandfather. With a new look he saw things differently and showed me to do exactly the same. I am seeing things anew thanks to this fictional character in a book that I read at the exact time I was supposed to read it.
My mother didn’t abandon me. She knew that I needed to live and learn on my own. She had raised my brother and I as wonderful young adults and had other work to do up on this earth. She had to serve others in a different way than being a mother. I was fortunate to have her in my life for many years. We played, learned, traveled and explored the world together. She encouraged me to be happy in my life, to have confidence and be courageous. She exhibited pride one has when serving for one’s country. She taught me that learning was a key to unlock any door and that sharing my knowledge was valuable as well. She showed my brother and I how to persevere through dark, ugly, awful events and how to come out victorious. She modeled how to set boundaries and that serving the higher good is our life purpose.
She had other work to do and knew that I was on my right path, taken care of and not in need of her any longer. She knew that my learning would not end, but would be done without her. She was called on another path, a path of service. Who was I to think she should only be here for me? To come running when I called? When I stomped my feet and threw a tantrum? She had to follow her inner guidance, her own calling, not my calling for her. She did just that, inspiring and touching people’s lives all over the world in her missionary work. She advocated and cared for people living on inner city streets. They were lucky to have her. My mother had to follow a path that she was driven to walk.
My mom walked her path and I now walk mine. Her passion took her into a direction that I just wasn’t able to see and only saw that it wasn’t toward me. She was never mine to begin with, I was gifted with her as a mother, and a friend, for decades. Instead of gracefully giving her back, letting her move on to her next phase in life, all I could focus on was betrayal and abandonment. I am sorry I didn’t see her living her dreams and being so happy in doing so because I couldn’t see beyond my own needs and desires. I am open to seeing it now, thanks to Francisco.
Thank you, Momma, for being such a light and inspiration in my life. You walked a hard, lonely road in your last years knowing that I didn’t understand your choices and only resented them. In resenting them, I resented you. They were for you, not against me. I do see that now. In seeing this, I ask you for your forgiveness and I forgive myself. I now walk upon my own path of service, following in your footsteps that still linger with me here upon the earth.
