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Jul. 19th, 2014 06:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jaipurMany thanks to all for the good wishes. Mom had surgery yesterday, to get a biopsy and place a stent in the duct so everything will keep working; she had an allergic reaction to one of the medications, which slowed things down a bit, but she was home yesterday evening, and Dad said she was already looking less jaundiced.
I'll call her today. After talking to her on Monday I called her again on Tuesday after work and had a decent chat; tried to call Thursday night but Dad was on the phone with someone so I sent an email wishing her well for the procedure on Friday, and swapped some email over that. My brother took Dad out to lunch yesterday while Mom was under the knife.
My sister's been texting regularly to check in on me and we had a chat Tuesday morning before work. We both fell apart on Monday night--she cried for hours, I cried longer than I have since Grandma died back in 1980, but the hubby said it was only about 5 minutes (*felt* like longer). I was ok talking to Mom and Dad that night but then when Dad said, "Do you want to talk to your mom again?" I just lost it. The thought that a day is coming when I will want to talk to her again and not be able to...
Tuesday she told me not to be a worrier, God is in control, all that good stuff. I said it wasn't worry per se, it was more anticipation of loss; even Jesus in the Garden of Gethsamane said "Hey, if there's a way we could avoid this, I'd love to hear it." Facing squarely the anticipation of pain and loss is not fun, even with all the spiritual faith and confidence you could have. But I do love my mom--she said she had no regrets, she and I had no unfinished business, she just regretted not being around to see me get the Nobel Prize for curing schizophrenia. That made me laugh!!
But given the issues she had with her mom, the fact that we don't have unfinished business is really a blessing. I can count the number of times I've had a knock-down-drag-out fight with my mom probably without putting down my drink. For all I was raised with corporal punishment--we were spanked and slapped for back-talk in a way that would raise eyebrows today--I never felt that she didn't respect me, that I wasn't my own person or that I didn't have her full support, that I had to agree with her in lock-step or anything. Even though she had strong opinions and no fear of expressing them and expecting us to agree, she was very open about raising us to be adults, to "work herself out of a job" as she always said; and I have very much enjoyed both that process and being her friend as an adult.
I'll call her today. After talking to her on Monday I called her again on Tuesday after work and had a decent chat; tried to call Thursday night but Dad was on the phone with someone so I sent an email wishing her well for the procedure on Friday, and swapped some email over that. My brother took Dad out to lunch yesterday while Mom was under the knife.
My sister's been texting regularly to check in on me and we had a chat Tuesday morning before work. We both fell apart on Monday night--she cried for hours, I cried longer than I have since Grandma died back in 1980, but the hubby said it was only about 5 minutes (*felt* like longer). I was ok talking to Mom and Dad that night but then when Dad said, "Do you want to talk to your mom again?" I just lost it. The thought that a day is coming when I will want to talk to her again and not be able to...
Tuesday she told me not to be a worrier, God is in control, all that good stuff. I said it wasn't worry per se, it was more anticipation of loss; even Jesus in the Garden of Gethsamane said "Hey, if there's a way we could avoid this, I'd love to hear it." Facing squarely the anticipation of pain and loss is not fun, even with all the spiritual faith and confidence you could have. But I do love my mom--she said she had no regrets, she and I had no unfinished business, she just regretted not being around to see me get the Nobel Prize for curing schizophrenia. That made me laugh!!
But given the issues she had with her mom, the fact that we don't have unfinished business is really a blessing. I can count the number of times I've had a knock-down-drag-out fight with my mom probably without putting down my drink. For all I was raised with corporal punishment--we were spanked and slapped for back-talk in a way that would raise eyebrows today--I never felt that she didn't respect me, that I wasn't my own person or that I didn't have her full support, that I had to agree with her in lock-step or anything. Even though she had strong opinions and no fear of expressing them and expecting us to agree, she was very open about raising us to be adults, to "work herself out of a job" as she always said; and I have very much enjoyed both that process and being her friend as an adult.
