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Family of Origin
Hey, Cedar, or anyone interested in FOO (Family of Origin) issues. Cedar, WHY NOW???
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 658325" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>Me too.</p><p></p><p>Near the end, I asked her if she loved me.</p><p></p><p>Yes. So, much.</p><p></p><p>Do you know how much I love you, Mama? Yes.</p><p></p><p>Mama, do you really, really know how much I love you?</p><p></p><p>She waited, maybe 45 seconds. All the time looking into my eyes. (She was a strong, strong woman who to the moment of her death never lost her will.)</p><p></p><p>After the interminably long 45 seconds.</p><p></p><p>Yes.</p><p></p><p>What was going through her head during nearly a minute I did not ask. I wanted to, but I did not ask. But I wondered.</p><p></p><p>Was it the old tapes, like if you loved me so much why did you not see me or talk to me for so many years? Or if you loved me so much why didn't you do what other daughters do? That had been my mother's voice.</p><p></p><p>What I like to think is that in the 45 seconds her mind was traveling through our lifetime together, and maybe before...and kissing each and every sorrowful and angry time to make it better. And maybe she did.</p><p></p><p>But I do not think so. That was not who she was.</p><p></p><p>But I can imagine it was so. And maybe that will be enough to forgive myself.</p><p></p><p>When I went to the hospital to take her home with me for what I knew then would be the last time. She was so close to death she was almost a vegetable.</p><p></p><p>I met the gurney in the hallway carrying her towards the medical van.</p><p></p><p>I had spent the last nights wailing through the night and drinking myself into a stupor and wailing, more. I knew then my mother was going. And that I would be bringing her home, to my home to die. (Why am I putting myself through this pain now, again?) And I was afraid.</p><p></p><p>And I knew it was too late. For me. All of the love and all of the regret of a lifetime was there. And it was too late.</p><p></p><p>And I embraced her tiny body on the gurney. No teeth. Barely alive. Still beautiful.</p><p></p><p>Mama, Mama, I'm here, it's me to take you home, Mama. It's me. </p><p></p><p>And I got no response from her.</p><p></p><p>So I hugged her more tightly, what was left of her.</p><p></p><p>Mama, I'm here to take you home, I repeated. Mama. Mama. It's me. Mama, I love you. </p><p></p><p>Still vacant. Motionless.</p><p></p><p>And I kissed her on the lips. Like Sleeping Beauty. I did.</p><p></p><p>And she kissed me back. As sure as I breathe, she kissed me back.</p><p></p><p>And the nurses at the station laughed and smiled. Joyously. They had seen the kiss. That my mother almost a corpse, had kissed me back.</p><p></p><p>She was dead within the 24 hours. I will spare you that for now.</p><p></p><p>But my mother kissed me on the lips, almost from the grave. And I smile, now. With happiness. How audacious is that?</p><p></p><p>I gave my mother all the love in the world at the end and received from her, in turn, the same.</p><p></p><p> Yes. And I know I did a good, good job. And it was worth every minute in bed since then. I now know. Because I did a good job for my Mother. And myself. And so did M.</p><p></p><p> Yes. This is true. I think my Mother knew it too. And I think she forgave me. But I never asked for forgiveness. It would not have been right.</p><p></p><p> Yes. Thank you, Cedar.</p><p></p><p>I climbed up in spirit to high places, bearing with me the hopes and miseries of my mother because I loved her and because that is who I am. I am proud.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 658325, member: 18958"] Me too. Near the end, I asked her if she loved me. Yes. So, much. Do you know how much I love you, Mama? Yes. Mama, do you really, really know how much I love you? She waited, maybe 45 seconds. All the time looking into my eyes. (She was a strong, strong woman who to the moment of her death never lost her will.) After the interminably long 45 seconds. Yes. What was going through her head during nearly a minute I did not ask. I wanted to, but I did not ask. But I wondered. Was it the old tapes, like if you loved me so much why did you not see me or talk to me for so many years? Or if you loved me so much why didn't you do what other daughters do? That had been my mother's voice. What I like to think is that in the 45 seconds her mind was traveling through our lifetime together, and maybe before...and kissing each and every sorrowful and angry time to make it better. And maybe she did. But I do not think so. That was not who she was. But I can imagine it was so. And maybe that will be enough to forgive myself. When I went to the hospital to take her home with me for what I knew then would be the last time. She was so close to death she was almost a vegetable. I met the gurney in the hallway carrying her towards the medical van. I had spent the last nights wailing through the night and drinking myself into a stupor and wailing, more. I knew then my mother was going. And that I would be bringing her home, to my home to die. (Why am I putting myself through this pain now, again?) And I was afraid. And I knew it was too late. For me. All of the love and all of the regret of a lifetime was there. And it was too late. And I embraced her tiny body on the gurney. No teeth. Barely alive. Still beautiful. Mama, Mama, I'm here, it's me to take you home, Mama. It's me. And I got no response from her. So I hugged her more tightly, what was left of her. Mama, I'm here to take you home, I repeated. Mama. Mama. It's me. Mama, I love you. Still vacant. Motionless. And I kissed her on the lips. Like Sleeping Beauty. I did. And she kissed me back. As sure as I breathe, she kissed me back. And the nurses at the station laughed and smiled. Joyously. They had seen the kiss. That my mother almost a corpse, had kissed me back. She was dead within the 24 hours. I will spare you that for now. But my mother kissed me on the lips, almost from the grave. And I smile, now. With happiness. How audacious is that? I gave my mother all the love in the world at the end and received from her, in turn, the same. Yes. And I know I did a good, good job. And it was worth every minute in bed since then. I now know. Because I did a good job for my Mother. And myself. And so did M. Yes. This is true. I think my Mother knew it too. And I think she forgave me. But I never asked for forgiveness. It would not have been right. Yes. Thank you, Cedar. I climbed up in spirit to high places, bearing with me the hopes and miseries of my mother because I loved her and because that is who I am. I am proud. [/QUOTE]
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Hey, Cedar, or anyone interested in FOO (Family of Origin) issues. Cedar, WHY NOW???
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