Love and Hate

Still I am haunted by the question, "Which of my sons died first?" This haunting began during YS's funeral while ES polished the Toxic Mom crown he bequeathed me however many years ago. Long enough that I now call him, "My estranged son." As I typed that, it occurred to me that ES can be an acronym for both "Eldest Son" and "Estranged Son." Acronyms are the champions of multi-purposing. The Toxic Mom polish from ES might have been even more painful than seeing his brother in that casket. It still is, 2 years later.

Of course, ES is neither dead nor fully estranged. When he wiggles his fingers in Daddy's deep pockets, he is wiggling them in my pockets, as well. This particular mommy and daddy set still work from the same bank accounts. In addition, ES still hits me up for non-financial favors from time to time, laced with the Toxic Mom barbs, of course. I accomodate when feasible. Every so often he even sends the three word text or email, "I love you."

"Sha la la la la la. Sha la la lo. I will keep you in my heart, always."

The line between love and hate is fine and fuzzy, indeed.