Relationships

A single point has guided me throughout my life. A single voice in my head that has kept me on the straight and narrow through times when I couldn’t see two feet in front of me, much less what’s around the bend.

My mom.

She has been the strongest influence on my life, though most times I chafe at admitting it. Her strength of character and determination have seen her through many, many difficult trials — from the loss of an infant daughter to a shattered marriage some fifteen years later. Yet, she remained strong. She never gave up, no matter how difficult the challenge or risky the outcome.

She is my rock.

My mom has Alzheimer’s and is leaving us, slowly, day by day. She’s in the early to mid stage so still knows who we are but, sooner or later, she won’t and I think it will break my heart. So much so that, in moments of weakness, I wish one of us would be released from this crazy world, and it doesn’t matter which one. I know that sounds awful, but the thought of Mom becoming lost to me makes me sad beyond having words to describe it — and angry, very angry.

Throughout her 83 years, she has relied only on herself to see her and her children over life’s hurdles. She is the only person I have ever known who will always tell me when I’m wrong or making a mistake. Her love, though quiet and somewhat reserved, is always there, for now. When she is lost to me, it will be lost to me as well.

Over the years, Mom and I have often not “gotten along.” I guess it’s because we are so much alike that it causes friction. I’m as stubborn as she is and as determined to make my own way in this screwed up world. We don’t talk a lot and seem to find it difficult to chat. Small talk isn’t part of our pattern — Scrabble is our thing. We can get into deep conversations over a Scrabble board and I’ve learned more about my mom while playing Scrabble than I ever dreamed possible. I cherish every game we play.

Mom lives with my sister and for that I am truly grateful. I don’t know how she does it, day in and day out, watching Mom fade away. I just know I couldn’t. It’s hard enough to see just when I visit.

Thank you, Jan — for all that you do to keep our mom safe. For taking care of her every need. For being her rock. I hope that someday, though I’m not sure how, I’ll be able to return the favor.

It’s been said that there is a lid for every pot. I’m convinced, though, that some of us are better suited to being lidless.

When I was younger — much younger — I thought that finding that one person on the planet that fills the void of your other half was simple. You go out. You meet a lot of people. You pick one. Or, one picks you. In my twenties, I went out, I met a lot of people, and some picked me. Four to be exact.

The first was a friend from college who, after a car wreck, moved back home to recuperate. I was the designated letter writer who kept him up-to-date on all the happenings within our group. He read more into those letters, though, than I intended and came back to town about a year later with a diamond solitaire and “plans.” I was clueless. So, what did I do? I ran like hell.

The second was a coworker who, though at the time married to someone else, proposed every few months. I thought we were just friends — not so much as a hug between us – but he seemed to think we were “meant” for each other or some such nonsense. My first instinct, again, was to run, but that’s hard to do when you work in the same place. Fortunately for me, my family decided to move to another state and, yep, I packed fast. A couple of years later we moved back to my hometown. By then, he was divorced and just kept on proposing. I finally started taking him seriously. He disappeared shortly thereafter, started dating someone else and was married eight months later. Some soul mate!

The third one, also from my college days, was and still is an enigma to me. We had a sort of off-and-on love-hate relationship. He proposed when I least expected it — he was in one room and I was in another. His proposal came across like a rhetorical question so I gave him a rhetorical answer. He stormed out and the next day, gave me a piece of his mind — for about twenty minutes. Never saw anyone so mad in my life. Still not sure what all happened there but still one of the few regrets I have.

The fourth one, I married. Shouldn’t have but no regrets with this one. I have a wonderful daughter who is the light of my life.

So why am I rambling on about all this? Well, lately I’ve felt like something is missing. I’ve had 24 years of post-divorce peace and contentment and, for the most part, happiness. And yet, I feel sort of empty sometimes. My child is off on her own now so maybe it’s just empty nest syndrome. I don’t know. I just know that sometimes, something really neat happens that I’d like to share and there’s no one here to share it with. No one that really gets me. I guess that’s the price I pay for once upon a time being young and stupid and fickle.

Maybe it’s for the best. Not all of us are destined to find the lid to their pot. Some of us are probably better suited to being their own sole mate. (Aren’t puns grand!)

I think for me, though, it boils down to not being able to give or be what the fellas I’ve known seem to want — a terminally sweet, utterly speechless, mammary-blessed*, sex-starved, totally subservient, house maid who likes to cook.

Was that me just being pissy? Hmmm.

*Thanks for the reminder, Kate!