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In a totally new place and need perspective? Cedar? Anyone?
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 665286" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>My mother did not remember when I had given her clothing for an event well enough to ever give it back. She would take the item. I would never see it again.</p><p></p><p>I was thinking about that last night in what for me, has become my habitually unattractive way of thinking about everything to do with them. </p><p></p><p>They were very nice things, those things my mother never gave back.</p><p></p><p>Very nice.</p><p></p><p>Does my mother remember dinners or lunches....</p><p></p><p>To my shame Copa, I was in automaton mode whenever I was with my mother. I did not trust her. I did not relax around her, ever. When my father died and we came home to be here for her when she came back, I would go to my mother's. I would listen and listen. We were actually in the middle of building a house. We left it to be here for my mom. My mom talked about...my grandmother. My father's mother, and how she hated her, and how oh, if we only knew what a rat she was really. On and on and on, that is how it was.</p><p></p><p>And I would come home and cry to D H.</p><p></p><p>I would cry to D H, take a shower, and go back there.</p><p></p><p>I did not want to shower in my mother's house. </p><p></p><p>Isn't that something.</p><p></p><p>The other unbelievable thing, Copa and Serenity, is that we did not mourn my father, my mother and I.</p><p></p><p>We talked about his mother.</p><p></p><p>And all the things she was not, and all the things she had done to my mother, and how hard everything was for my mother because of the grandmother I loved. And I listened and listened and listened, because I believed that if she could be heard, that if she could once get to the bottom of the hurt, she could heal.</p><p></p><p>But we never mourned my father.</p><p></p><p>I did not mourn my father. Isn't that something. I was there for my mother and I was strong for my mother and I came home to shower and I cried to D H.</p><p></p><p>And I went back.</p><p></p><p>My father was never properly eulogized. He was never properly mourned ~ not by his wife, and not by his children.</p><p></p><p>I know, because I have seen other wives, friends or acquaintances, mourn their husbands. I have seen families come together and take comfort and celebrate who they are and what is lost.</p><p></p><p>A friend told me "Dysfunctional family, dysfunctional death."</p><p></p><p>So, I don't know. I am thinking of these things, this morning.</p><p></p><p>I am thinking of the difference between believing in and believing.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 665286, member: 17461"] My mother did not remember when I had given her clothing for an event well enough to ever give it back. She would take the item. I would never see it again. I was thinking about that last night in what for me, has become my habitually unattractive way of thinking about everything to do with them. They were very nice things, those things my mother never gave back. Very nice. Does my mother remember dinners or lunches.... To my shame Copa, I was in automaton mode whenever I was with my mother. I did not trust her. I did not relax around her, ever. When my father died and we came home to be here for her when she came back, I would go to my mother's. I would listen and listen. We were actually in the middle of building a house. We left it to be here for my mom. My mom talked about...my grandmother. My father's mother, and how she hated her, and how oh, if we only knew what a rat she was really. On and on and on, that is how it was. And I would come home and cry to D H. I would cry to D H, take a shower, and go back there. I did not want to shower in my mother's house. Isn't that something. The other unbelievable thing, Copa and Serenity, is that we did not mourn my father, my mother and I. We talked about his mother. And all the things she was not, and all the things she had done to my mother, and how hard everything was for my mother because of the grandmother I loved. And I listened and listened and listened, because I believed that if she could be heard, that if she could once get to the bottom of the hurt, she could heal. But we never mourned my father. I did not mourn my father. Isn't that something. I was there for my mother and I was strong for my mother and I came home to shower and I cried to D H. And I went back. My father was never properly eulogized. He was never properly mourned ~ not by his wife, and not by his children. I know, because I have seen other wives, friends or acquaintances, mourn their husbands. I have seen families come together and take comfort and celebrate who they are and what is lost. A friend told me "Dysfunctional family, dysfunctional death." So, I don't know. I am thinking of these things, this morning. I am thinking of the difference between believing in and believing. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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