Today is February 17, 2011, probably just another day for most people. It's my mother's birthday today, and I've been thinking about her all day. Sad that she lives within an hour of me, and I never see her, talk to her or know how she is doing.
My last contact with her was 3 years ago when my stepdad died. I got a phone call from Susan May, my mother's good friend. It was weird to hear this familiar voice on the phone. She told me that my dad was in the hospital and had fallen at work and was in a coma. She asked if I would like to come to the hospital and be there with my mom when they took him off life support. I had to think about that one for a while; I asked her if I could call her back.
I called my sisters and asked them what they thought; Sonya and Kris said, "no way were they going, and that I shouldn't either" I went into my room, knelt down to pray, and asked the Lord what I should do. The answer came quick and straightforward, "yes," so I gathered my family around and asked them if they would go with me; Eric was not comfortable going and was against it. However, I am a woman and had to do what I had to do.
Saturday came quickly; the drive to the hospital was agonizing; I had not seen my mom or dad for at least 16 years, and my head was spinning. I was trying to imagine how this would go down. This small part of me was excited; I realized that now maybe my mom and I could start over and begin to heal this much-needed relationship.
All my children chose to go with me. They dropped everything they were doing on a Saturday and went with me to see people they had never met. They had met them, but the last time we saw them was on Kaitlyn's 1st birthday, and now she was 16, almost 17. Haleigh is the only child my mom has never seen, and she was born after all this happened.
When we walked into the hospital room, it was small and cold; I did not recognize my mother. The mom I used to know was taller and much softer; this woman was hunched over, very short, and crippled up with Arthritis. I walked up to her and gave her a hug. It was so incredibly uncomfortable. My eyes water up right now when I think about it.
Not too many words were exchanged. I introduced Mom to my children. I remember sitting in a chair facing her. Blake was standing behind me, holding his hands on my shoulders as if to protect his mama from whatever he expected would happen next. Haleigh sat on my lap, Kaitlyn behind me next to Blake, and Kayla on my right side, holding my hand. What a sight we must have been; I'm not sure what thoughts were going through my children's heads, but I know I was thinking, "what am I doing here?"
It almost felt like I was in a dream and could not wake up. My chair was at the foot of the stepdad's bed. It was hard for me to look at him; all the flood of bad memories was sure to well up and surface as tears in my eyes; I couldn't do that right now; I needed to be strong and show no emotion. My mom and I had small talk, like always. Even though I have not talked to her in so long, it's always small talk with her, nothing too deep, nothing that she would have to think about or admit to.
Not much has changed in that department for her. I'm not judging her; I think she looks mad and sad. She has carried all this anger with her for so many years that I think she has a hard heart, always wanting me to feel like she is one step ahead. When I introduced her to Haleigh, my mom looked right at her and said, in a not-so-kind voice, "I KNOW WHO YOU ARE, I USED TO SEND YOU BIRTHDAY CARDS EVERY YEAR, BUT SINCE I NEVER HEARD BACK FROM YOU, I STOPPED."
The mother bear in me wanted to come across the floor and seriously give her a slap across the face, no-one, and I mean no one, talks to my children like that. Instead, I let it go and decided it was not worth it. Maybe she is testing me; besides, the Lord knows my heart, and he is the only one who knows where my heart is.
Some other people were in the room, including her Bishop and friends from her church. One of them said in a sarcastic voice, "you have a daughter? where has she been all this time?" I had to refrain from using the words I wanted to. I just sat there waiting for my mom's response..... she said nothing. What could she say? We were all there, and I knew the real story, so she was not going to say anything. She'll wait until I'm gone, then she'll fill them all in on what a horrible daughter I am, how I hurt them and ruined their lives. The nurse came in and said it was time to start the process on Gary; she explained that once they take him off the life support, his body should struggle for a few breaths and then go to sleep.
Then my mom looked at me and said, "You can go hold his hand and whisper to him if you want to, Monya."
A wave of ugliness just went through my body. I can't explain it in words, but there was no way in HELL I was going to whisper anything in this man's ear. He tortured me and made my life a living hell for many years, and I cannot think of one good memory with him. I politely said, "I'm good, no thanks" then I heard a sigh from someone in the room as if to say, "Are you kidding me? This is the last time you have to say goodbye" In my head, I had said goodbye many, many years ago, but now I realize that demon I can never say goodbye to; it lingers in the back of my mind and surfaces when it feels like it.
The nurse came in and took him off life support, and believe me when I tell you this, it did not go down like the sweet little nurse said it would. His body started to gasp for air, his head popped back, his mouth opened, and his body went into convulsions. It was the most awful thing I have ever experienced, and I had my children with me. This was their first experience with death. What the heck was I thinking, taking them with me? I was grateful when they were able to experience the death of Eric's dad, Ray Williams, just a few months later. It was the same setting, except he just went to sleep, and it was peaceful as he left this life and went to live with our Heavenly Father. This opposite, the stepdad was fighting to go to the other side.
It was one of the most awful experiences of my life. One of the weirdest things about it was not much emotion from my mom; she cried a little, then it was all business.
I was hoping to mend this tattered and torn mother-daughter relationship. I talked to my mom's Bishop for a few minutes out in the hallway and explained our strained relationship. He was so sweet and non-judgemental. He gave me his phone number and told me to call him with any questions. I said goodbye to my mom, and I walked away with my children close by. I wanted to hug and kiss all four of them and never let them go.
On the way home, it was quiet, I asked them how they felt, and they all had different answers, but for the most part, it freaked them out, my mom freaked them out, and they had nothing good to say. I'm unsure if it's because of their loyalty to me or if they sincerely felt nothing. They all said it felt very dark and yucky when he died, and I agreed.
The next day when I got home from church, there were a couple phone calls received from my mom. I called her back to see what I could help her with. She told me where to meet her in the morning (the funeral home). I asked if I could pick her up, but she said Susan would take her. She asked me if I would design the program for the funeral. I said, "I'd love to do that for you."
Everything was going so well in my mind, then suddenly it turned for the worst. Mom said,
"I just need to say one thing to you...."
Oh no, here it comes, I know that voice, and I knew she I said,
"Mom, please don't go there. Let's just get moving forward and mend this." She raised her voice, "Do you know what you did to our lives? You ruined our lives..."
I could not hold back. "I ruined YOUR life.? Are you kidding me?"
Her quick reply was, "You know he has been forgiven, don't you? He did everything he was supposed to, and he's been forgiven."
"Really? Seriously mom? What did he get forgiven for? Because, according to you, he never did anything wrong?"
By now, my emotions were getting the best of me; I could hardly breathe, and I was crying uncontrollably. I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest. Finally, for the last time, I confronted my mom and told her these words.
"I cannot go backward, mom; I need to continue to go forward. I have finally forgiven dad for what he did to me; I am finally at a good place in my marriage and with my family; we are happy, love the Lord, and rely on him for strength. Sorry, but I am not willing to do this with you .... goodbye," and I hung up, went into a fetal position, and cried for over a month.
I called my sisters, and they were sad for me but knew that was what was going to happen; Susan said that my mom kept looking for me at the funeral home the next day, telling the funeral director that she was waiting for her daughter who drives a maroon suburban to show up. Finally, Susan told her, "she's not coming."
Within a month, my dad Colby Belshe died, and Eric's dad Ray Williams died 6 months later; 2008 was a challenging year.
Today as I think about my mother on her birthday, I have a lot of mixed emotions. My own children have told me repeatedly that they are so proud of me and that they are glad I took them to the hospital on that dreadful day. They said it finally let them see into my heart; I loved that; I loved that they, my own children, could see my intentions. They knew I wanted to mend and heal but were not willing to go backward in my life.
For now, I live with guilt and all kinds of emotions over my mother, but I know there is nothing I can do about it; I've tried so hard, so many times, being shot down by the one person, my mother who is supposed to protect and teach me in love, no matter what age I am.
Monya - NORMAL is suitable where you are and doing what you're doing. What a beautiful soul you are! Love you.
I LOVE YOU TOO MY LITTLE PRINCIPESSA!!!