Discover Mare Martell

12/06 :  Losing Parents

   I have/had a shaky (at best) relationship with my father. It was commonly punctuated with him being mean, me asking if he even likes me, him reassuring me he did. Lies all around, but I'd hoped to find the dad I'd dreamed of and failed. He is telling everyone that I'm a horrible person. He has called me a controlling bulldozer crazy lesbian tree-worshiping cunt. Each person is embarrassed to even tell me what is said.

I know I'm not those things. I know I'm a good person with a strong heart. I have many qualities that are beautiful. I have a gift for allowing people to be who they are around me without them fearing I'm judging them. The things that my father has said about me, though untrue, are painful to hear. I guess I was looking for Ward Cleaver and got Jack the Ripper instead. Ah, the irony of that.

Years ago when Matthew's adoption into my home was failing, my mother said, "I don't know what you're so upset about, he was never your son." That felt as if my heart had been broken in two. I slept in the nursery for six months. I cried every night. My marriage dissolved as I struggled with emotions unprecedented in my lifetime. I was completely devastated and lost. I didn't know which way to turn. I lashed out at everyone in an attempt to justify what I felt inside my heart. I couldn't figure out why that, of all things, would leave me alone. In a way, I think I needed to be alone. I needed to go through the emotions.

I joined a support group for parents who have lost children. I went twice. They told me I didn't belong there. I felt I did. I knew my son was still alive, but I couldn't hold him. I couldn't touch him. I couldn't smell the scent of his hair as it laid against my chest. I felt robbed. I was angry that nobody seemed to understand what that felt like. In the deepest part of my soul, I prayed that someday I'd be able to tell him that I loved him. I hoped that I'd be able to hug him, cuddle him, adore him as I wanted to since before he was even born. And then I cried some more.

Because of everything I was dealing with, I shut down. I pushed away. I know that sounds redundant since I just wrote that, but I really didn't know how to handle loss. My Aunt Lizzie tried to reach out, but I couldn't deal with it. I didn't understand that she had also experienced the losses and emotions that go with losing a child. I rejected her.

I've tried here in the past couple of years to get in touch with my mother, but she refuses. It's been fifteen years since that happened. That's a long time. I miss calling her up each day and telling her about things. Even when I did that, after I married Carl, I still felt like I was imposing myself. I don't recall her calling me like a best friend would. I just believed that she was at that time. Or maybe I just wanted to believe that. I guess I'd hoped to have the type of relationship with her as she did with her mother. They were incredibly close. I envied that.

Back when I lost Matthew the first time, it hurt so much knowing he was out in the world without me being able to love him. I feel the same way towards my parents. They're essentially, but not physically, gone from my life, but I know they're out there and that's hard.

People have told me that it's their loss. They have said to me that I'll get over it. How in the hell do you get over your parents not even acknowledging that you exist? How do you get past the hateful things that your own ancestoral clan holds as the truth? How do you write off the two people, who in their youth loved one another and brought me into the world? The thing is, I don't want to. Call it naive, call it stupid, call it irrational, but I don't want to be in this world with the two people who, although have made mistakes, deserve the love of a daughter.

I'm not perfect. I'm slightly above average overall, but I love my parents. I love that they believed for a short time that love would conquer all. I romanticize it in the hopes that someday they will both know that I love them despite themselves. I love them despite MYself. They are my mother and my father. They are the first people I fell in love with. It's a good thing they weren't the last.