Since you started losing your mind,
Your deepest secrets are emerging
from a soul I never knew.
You weren’t aware of the secrets
until you started losing your mind.
You tell me I am “smart and always have been.”
You are “proud of me to the point of elation.”
You wish you had produced another child
because the decisions you and Daddy made
were cruel and selfish.
You didn’t show your love enough
and you wish you could relive your life with me.
I tell you that I don’t hold it against you
because I’m the only one who gets all the stuff.
I lie and still ache for siblings.
You are opening up like a creaky dusty book
and wiping away debris
You are finally expressing your love for me,
since you started losing your mind.
My dear Janet,
I'm struck by the utter sadness of your words.
At the same time--at the risk of sounding glib--let me remind us all of the old adage, "Better late than never."
Yet "better" is such a subjective word. It's hard to appreciate the "better" when you muse about "Why couldn't it have been sooner so we could have shared the wonder of family love sooner?"
I understand your "I lie and still ache for siblings." My own father died when I was four years old. For decades, I ached for the father I never had time to enjoy.
One of the concepts learned from near-death older people is that they regret far less what they did than what they wish now they would have done. There's a powerful lesson to be learned here.
A very thoughtful write, Janet.
I truly hope your hurt is healing.
oh my, Janet. this is most definitely one of my favorites of yours - so intimate with layers of meaning and emotion and great turns of phrases! like you've turned the page of a fascinating book, which is, I know your life and the life of your mother.... wonderful writing. thoughts are with you, Dawn
when someone begins to lose their minds, they let down the walls that have surrounded their lifetimes ... losing one's mind is a curse but sometimes it can also be a blessing ...
Blessings, Janet. You are taking it on th4 chin in so many ways. This accounting of relations between aging parents and offspring is eternal, so ease it down over there where you don't have to think about it. Many of us have been there, as you say, but I have never been able to write it down in the compassionate way that you've done. You are helping others to understand and to cope. - Bill
It is unfortunate that it is only in later years can we really look back and see the outcome of our errors. I am not condoning what your mother did or did not do but as a parent and now grandparent there are so many things I would change if I could but alas time does not allow for retakes. You are fortunate however because my parents died when I was only a young man and it was still not in vogue to show your feelings towards your children.
Fee
Well Janet I certainly can identify with this one as it reminds me a lot of my Mother's last few years....when her Alzheimers took hold, but before she stopped talking, she opened up a lot - her "wall of protection" that she'd afforded herself all those years disappeared. It's sad that this is how we have to hear how people REALLY feel about us.....when their walls begin tumbling down.
And the secrets revealed once this dusty book is creaking open are absolutely priceless... except for the price that has to be paid by the one becoming vulnerable. How this makes my mind, heart and soul weep with you, Janet, just, as you know, having come through similar experiences myself. I cannot yet bring myself to read much of the jotter of writings that my Mum spent her final days writing out... quite frankly, it is all toooooooooo shocking and I need to be in a different emotional place to be able to take it all on board. Bless you in your aching... as you continue to walk out the path of recognition, you will find beauty for ashes will be strewn along the way. Wonderful narrative write, thank you. Kate xx
Oh my Janet, is this ever brilliant! A psychological look at a character that only became human when insanity struck. Fantastic and not as rare as some would think! So many are impaired by their childhood that normal affections aren't possible for tham. Unless they lose their inhibitions.Sad that she came to her senses only when she lost them. Great write!
It's almost Christmas. Lynn Basil is writing her last book about a secret entrance into the magical doll land of Sha Bebe that she loves so much. Bagannos have taken over the world! Lynn finally meets her dolls in real life. Can she write in a Secret
It's almost Christmas. Lynn Basil is writing her last book about a secret entrance into the magical doll land of Sha Bebe that she loves so much. Bagannos have taken over the world! Lynn finally meets her dolls in real life. Can she write in a Secret
I'm struck by the utter sadness of your words.
At the same time--at the risk of sounding glib--let me remind us all of the old adage, "Better late than never."
Yet "better" is such a subjective word. It's hard to appreciate the "better" when you muse about "Why couldn't it have been sooner so we could have shared the wonder of family love sooner?"
I understand your "I lie and still ache for siblings." My own father died when I was four years old. For decades, I ached for the father I never had time to enjoy.
One of the concepts learned from near-death older people is that they regret far less what they did than what they wish now they would have done. There's a powerful lesson to be learned here.
A very thoughtful write, Janet.
I truly hope your hurt is healing.
My love to you,
Richard
excellent write, Janet ...
Fee