Big Four Oh
Is having a son turn 40 is even more mind fucky than my own 40th birthday? This week, a quarter century later, I canae seem to remember my 40th birthday and donae care to do the math, much less the research. ES turns 40 a week from today. By the family tradition I havenae participated in for a good many years, I **should** be pumping him for his birthday desires this week, buttttttttttttaaaaaaaaaaaa. . . Last I checked, he still had important sleeping to do and remains quite surly in defense of that all important sleep. I would druther roust a hibernating grizzly bear, thank you kindly. In my heart, he has a skull and crossbones on his door with, "Toxic Mothers Keep Out" printed in bold red letters beneath. He got out of bed for his brother's funeral, but we didnae speak. He sat stoically in the back of the proceedings with his hands clasped over his ample belly next to the friend who had driven him there. His brother was driving his car in the fatal car wreck. If ES talked to **anybody**, even the friend who had driven him, during the funeral proceedings, I missed the action. The times I looked his way, his stoicism inspired the question which still haunts me. Which of my sons died first?
Over the course of processing the grief of losing YS and "Mommy and Daddy," that haunting question has twined with its partner question. Which grief is tougher to process? The grief of estrangement is? ? ? The story of my life? ? ? The most established tradition on my branch of the family tree? ? ? NFF? ? ? Triple howl yeowl.
Processing. . . What the fuck is it I am processing here?
Prayers ongoing. . .
Replies
Your son must have sent my daughter one of those signs....it is tough being estranged from our children. My own daughter turns 31 in 4 days and again I will send her a gift card over Etsy since she refuses to give me her address or telephone number. One of these days hopefully soon, they will be able to look beyond what they are feeling and place theirselves in our shoes.
But for you, I cant imagine losing one and then having the other there. I have gone through stages...i seem to be stuck in the one where im still missing her. Id gotten to the resolution that she obviously thinks having me in her life would not be good although i dont know why. She associates me with the bad times in her life when i as a single mother scraped by to try to give her the best life. I took the better choices i was given for her. Not always the choices i wanted but i tried to see the bigger picture.
Guilt, anger and sadness plays like a broken record. It definately leaves our mother hearts with big gapping holes.....prayers to you Arfie.
Ya can get those signs just about anywhere. No need to waste comradery on something even easier to find than a smart phone.
I just might have a leg up on coping with the rejection in the fact that I deliberately estranged my parents in early adulthood, as my parents before me and their parents before them, all the way back to the 15th century Luther Wars in central Germany on my mother's side and? ? ? Well? ? ? I'm more than a little afraid to look too closely at my father's branch of the family tree. Suffice it to say that I am far more conditioned in family estrangement than navigating generational boundaries. That, plus the extra nine years of acceptance.
But you are quite right that ^it^ feels like a double whammy this season. Estrangement equals functional death for the relationship, doesn't it? The son who is already buried died trying to heal that devastating family tradition for both branches of his children's family tree. The morbidly obese 40 year old who is still subsisting on his father's charity doesnae seem to even try to get out of bed any more.
I hold it as good news in this sad cliche that at least Hubs and I are getting to where we can talk about ^it^. Sorta. Maybe. We did this morning and I think I believe him when he says there are no updates on the middle-aged retirement home drama. Hubs still has a partner in co-dependency in that retirement home and? ? ? Small steps, big faith and lots and lots of prayer. The yaddahs of those blahs arenae mine to sort.
The leg up on that acceptance curve doesnae do much to ease the pain. . .
hugs arfie
Hugs Arfie.
I felt similar when my eldest turned 20, the age I was when I had her. It was shocking to my brain to realize that she was the same age I was. I’m not sure I’ve processed it fully yet and she’s now going to be 23 in a few days.
Hugs and support my friend