my funeral pants are getting a workout this season, which sucks. there is no other way to put it. in october i put them on to attend a viewing for a new friend who was saying goodbye to her 18 month old baby girl.
then j's aunt died just before the new year and last week we traveled to NYC, funeral pants in tow, to attend her funeral mass and reception. the mass was beautiful and there was barely a dry eye in the place. as i sat in the second row behind j's uncle it seemed that his aunt, the consummate event planner, had thought of every detail. even the beautiful stained glass window was gleaming in the most spectacular and vibrant sapphire blue i had ever seen; the sun was at the perfect height in the sky to illuminate the mass. i know j's family couldnt help but think that they might find themselves seeing each other again soon under similar circumstances as his mother is very ill.
the morning of the funeral, j's mom went back into the hospital for fever, chills and what ended up being pneumonia. to me the saddest part of this is seeing her turn her children away, time and again. j. and his sister, although tenuous to admit it out loud, desperately want to be acknowledged in some way other than her error filled christmas missive sent to family and friends each december or the 2 minute phone conversations that hastily occur with infrequency. the passive aggressive maneuvers and selfish plotting that his mother undertakes with steadfastness astounds me. i had high hopes that terminal cancer would cause some introspection on her part and give her the courage to reach out to her children. i still hold onto this hope, but these days that hope is like tiny grains of sand running through my hands.
as a mother myself, i am hard pressed to think of anything more fulfilling than seeing my child succeed and then acknowledging it. i love to see the grin on f's face when i tell him i am proud of him. it warms my heart to see m or k cheer for themselves when they accomplish something as simple as completing a puzzle because as their biggest cheerleader, i have already started cheering. i am sad for j's mother that she will likely spend her whole life never knowing that fulfillment. i am heartbroken for my husband that he will never hear those words of praise from his own mother.
as a wife, i am angry at j's mom for treating him this way. he deserves better! we make sacrifices for our children and i cant comprehend why this thought never occurs to her. j's mom recently complained to his sister about her "bucket list" of things that will be left unmarked. sadly none of the things she is wanting to accomplish have anything to do with her family. she is angry that she cant attend a poetry reading, or eat a certain meal, or hike a trail with friends. but nowhere on that list is anything that resembles spending time with her children or grandchildren. her children and her grandchildren deserve better.
as we were travelling home from the funeral in NYC, i called a good friend to check in and learned that a member of our mothers of multiples club lost her son while i was away. this little boy spent the majority of his 3.5 years in the hospital fighting for his life. he was born early like my boys, and was afflicted with NEC, just like my m. unfortunately his fight with NEC took a different turn, and he spent months at a time in the hospital undergoing surgery after surgery. he had a multiple organ transplant. his father quit his job to become his full time caregiver and his parents uprooted their lives to move to PA to be by his bedside as he fought for his life day after day. as i unpacked my suitcase and put on those funeral pants for the second time in one week i couldnt help but think about how unfair it was that this family had lost their son. a son that they doted over and loved soo much.
we are taking the kids to see j's mom one last time this weekend. part of me thinks this is a terrible idea. it feels like we are rewarding her selfish ways, but j. is adamant that his children have a chance to say goodbye to their grandmother. i know that they will not remember the goodbye or likely her for that matter. but if it helps my husband to have his family by his side as he says goodbye to his mother, we will be there. i know it will not be long before the funeral pants come out of the closet again, which sucks. there is no other way to put it.
2 comments:
I hate that you've had such a hard time lately with so much loss surrounding you. I hope this is the last time you'll see those pants for a while.
Hugs to you, and to your beautiful boys who I already miss.
So sorry for all of this. Your children may only ever remember their grandmother through photos, but maybe that is best. Try not to tell them too many horror stories. They don't need to know, and it will never serve them. They have a loving mom and dad and other relatives. That's what counts.
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