My Mother recently passed away. I regret all the wasted time I could have spent with her when she was still here, time we spent estranged. Many years. It has only been the past five or so years that we made up, and by that time, though I didn't know it then, dementia had probably already started to set in. I had to get to know a whole 'new' Mom, and though she could be difficult at times (I've heard her described as a "crazy old bat") I loved her and did all I could for her. I'm disabled, and live over an hour away. But my (second) husband is strong and skilled, so he did a lot for her, too. He put up with her 'eccentricities' for me. He really is a good person.
We had ups and downs in our new relationship, and I watched as Mom's health steadily got worse. My aunt- Mom's sister- handled most of the assorted things that go with aging and disease (diabetes- pretty bad) since she lived near and is retired. Mom had also been in a wreck in 1978, one so bad she never fully recovered. Frankly, she was a mess. After the accident she "found religion" and life was never the same again.
Mom had remarried in 1975 (I was 10) and had my baby sister right before my 12th birthday. When I was little, every Christmas she would ask what I wanted and I'd say "a baby sister". She finally gave me one. I was over the moon. Then five months later, the life-changing wreck. She had to first, remember who we were. She had no idea. Then we had to teach her to eat, and walk, and use the restroom. She had traumatic brain injury, and her beautiful face was destroyed. Too many injuries to list. Very lucky to be alive.
Her new husband thought it would be best to ship me down to stay with my career military father, who was at the time stationed in Panama City, Fla. Bear in mind, this was a man who divorced my Mom when I was one, and I hadn't seen nor heard from him since (though the child support rolled in each month.) I'm sure it threw him for a loop just as much as it did me.
In 1978, my dad was a bit of a playboy. He loved to party. My first night there he taught me what pot was, how to roll a proper joint, and made sure I got high (we smoked two). He was cool with that, and with me drinking (I was 13!), as long as I did it at home and didn't run the streets like a wild child. All in all a pretty awesome, if woefully misguided dad.
Then after six months of living a completely unsheltered life, my Mother "miraculously" remembered what a fiend my father was, and I was promptly shipped home. My newly acquired habits did not fit well with her strict Southern Baptist beliefs. I was stuck in a mental hospital to cure my marijuana addiction. Three months in a mental hospital can really do a number on your head. There were a lot of "incorrigible" kids there, hospitalized and doped for making Mommy&Daddy angry. That's a whole other story, however.
I returned home, back to church (twice on Sundays, once on Wednesdays) until one day a friend and I decided to cut Sunday school. Busted. Right before 9th grade graduation. I was grounded* for three months- the entire summer. (*Grounded: No phone, no visits, no television. Church, chores, bible study.)
So I did the sensible thing: I ran away. The plan was, I would stay gone long enough, they would be sick with worry, and take me off restriction. Then I started thinking, no, that won't happen at all. I'll just get another stay at the hospital. Bad, bad plan. I stayed gone three months the first time. I got homesick. I felt bad from some drugs I'd taken, so they told me to go to the ER in case I'd od'd. I called a cab. The cab driver was a seminary student. This all comes back later, in a funny way that all parts of my life fit together like a van Gogh jigsaw puzzle. (Another story.)
Mom and stepfather came and got me. Fretted over what to do. Rehab! So, off to rehab I go, where the drugs were better and most people were staying courtesy of the crimnal "justice" system. I met and fell in love with a 19 year old speed freak, Ricky. Match made in Heaven, right? He had a friend, Chuck, who was a bit hardcore. 28 or so. He was nice to me, so I thought he was my friend, too. One day, we got word that one of the guys finishing up the program was being picked up by his wife that night. If we made it to the road he'd give us a place to stay for the night, then we'd head to Chuck's. Sounded great to me! So we bounced.
I didn't know Chuck had already done years for rape, and was at the rehab as part of his release. I didn't know what a speed freak really was, since I'd never done speed. Tried it, hated it, to this day you couldn't pay me to touch that garbage. I knew Chuck and Ricky had their own plans. My plan was to get to Augusta, Ga. in time for the Van Halen concert (don't judge me.) They put me on the side of the road with my thumb out, and when the first pervert stopped to give me a ride, they popped out and got in the back seat. The man was flabbergasted, but what could he do, really? He asked where we wanted to go, and that's when Chuck pulled out a sawed off shotgun, put it across the seat an just said "Drive." Silly man TELLS Chuck he has a gun in the glove compartment, and Chuck made me get it and pass it back to Ricky. I was geeking. I didn't even KNOW Chuck had a gun, and I'm pretty sure if he'd had a mind to pull that trigger I'd have been just as dead as the driver. What eventually happened was Chuck made him drive to a peach orchard and let him get out. You'd better believe I got out, too. I hadn't signed up for this. They turned the guns on me and said "Get IN." I knew their plans.
Much happened along the way, of course, and I've gotten way off track from the purpose of this post. I may write about that trip another time. Just know, bad things happened, including a murder in Texas, and I wasn't able to esacpe until California. Never before (or since) have I been so happy to see a cop.
Mom. Mom stuck by me. So much had happened by the time I was 16, though, she had to toss me out of her house. I understand, I would have tossed me, too. She always knew where I was, and made sure I didn't starve (I had a safe place to stay.) But I missed seeing my sis grow up. I got pregnant and engaged at 18. He was so charming, til he slammed me across the room one night while he was drunk. I called Mom the next morning while he was at work, and she came and got me. I was back home. I didn't work while pregnant, I went back to school. Adult education. (Graduated 1st out of 89. Got a college scholarship out of that deal.) Before I graduated, though, she sat me down for a talk. My aunt had miscarried, was devastated to learn she'd never have kids, and as a result her marriage ended up being annulled. I actually considered it, too. I wanted my baby.
I got a job, quality control, and started college. Then I met and moved in with future husband #1. We were actually married 25 years. I left him in 2000, was working two jobs, with two kids (I have three, but my eldest had bolted, in a twist eerily similar to my own story.) I fell asleep driving home, ran off an embankment and hit a tree. They tell me I was doing 65-70 mph at the time I struck. I had so many of the same injuries as my Mom, plus a few extra for fun (they nearly had to amputate my legs- instead opting for an experimental procedure performed at the time in only 5 hospitals in the nation. Tell me I'm not blessed.) After the wreck, moved back in with the hubby, but he couldn't handle it, and I was having a rough go, too. Made a lot of bad choices.
As a result of all these bad choices (Drugs- it was drugs) I was now estranged from not only my first family, but my second. I was literally on the streets. Disabled 37 year old woman on the streets, at least a million stories there.
Life had another loop to throw my way via redneck dope fiend woman beaters, but, live and learn. (Add that to my list of future tales.)
Through it all, Mom never let me starve. I'd show up on her doorstep, she'd feed me, give me a goody bag of non-perishables and send me on my merry way. Then I escaped again. The redneck woman beater I'd landed with (for safety- because the danger you know trumps the dangers you don't) got too dangerous, even for me. He eventually shot his ex-wife and mother of his four children in the chest and arm. He's only doing 18 because she survived.
Once I got clean, I got my stuff together and filed for divorce myself (He wouldn't divorce me because SC is a community property state. Oh yeah, and he's a good Catholic.) The divorce cost $12.50 for the paperwork, which you better make sure you get EXACTLY RIGHT so you don't have to start all over. Didn't ask for a thing. Just my name back. Granted. I could have done a cartwheel out of there (so could he, I'm sure.) Best money ever spent.
I've been with the new, improved hubby (though in all fairness, the first one did raise two kids well) for 5 years now, and it's been those five wonderful years that I had my Mom back.
She passed peacefully, on her own terms. We had three days for family and friends to let her know we loved her, and I whispered in her ear. A lot. I know she heard every word. My aunt had held off on the morphine which would have ended so much of her suffering sooner. She actually told she didn't want Mom on "that drug" becuse she wanted her lucid "for her children". Truth is, my sis and I had been begging for Mom to get relief. And my sis is Power of Attorney.
The change was immediate. They put it under her tongue, and all her fears and pain seemed to visibly melt away. She was beautiful again (though to me, she always was.) I told her I loved her that day, and she opened her eyes (they saw me, but as if from a great distance) and moved her lips "I love you, too." Never let her see me cry. Saturday we stayed, then had to get home to tend to our own things here. I stroked her hair, squeezed her hand, and told her "Love you, bye", then kicked myself after I left the room because I'd MEANT to say "See you in the morning."
My sister has two teens and her own things to be taken care of, so she also wasn't there Sunday morning, at 10:10, when my Mom took her last breath. My aunt was, holding her hand, though I believe she had dozed off. That's when Mom escaped. She just wanted to be alone. She was funny like that.
After note: I'd saved a message from last year on voice mail. It was my Mom ranting and raving against my eldest son, Josh (whom she adored), then before slamming the phone down, she says "Love you, bye." One more of those funny puzzle pieces fit.