aftermath.. − 1 January, 1990
my mother became bedridden with grief after her mother's death. She took a leave of absence from work, and she stayed in bed and watched TV. She became quiet and uncommunicative.. she could barely move without breaking down into sobs. She was often frustrated and short with me. Nothing mattered. Nothing could make her smile or laugh.. she was committing a slow subconscious suicide. I remember her so clearly, sobbing through her hands and saying "i want my mommy back" and i remember thinking "So do I."
There was a portrait of my grandmother in the livingroom. I remember sneaking out to it at night and praying.. to god, to her, to the portrait, to the darkness.. to please please put my life back the way it had been before she died. I was selfish, yes. I was 9 years old. I also was blissfully ignorant at that point to all the intricate ways that the death of a parent can rip you apart. Something I'd eventually become quite familiar with.
She'd have me help her clean the house.. put on Roy Orbison's "Mystery Girl" album and cry and sing and remember. those were healing days.. but few and far between.
My mother asked my father to move back in with us at home. she couldn't do it alone anymore. It's something I celebrated at the time but came to loathe. My mother and father were not just oil and water, they were gasoline and sparks.
at the time, all I knew is that I had a family again. an honest to god quote unquote normal family unit. She asked him back under the stipulation that he understand fully it was just to help her through the grief.. but of course how could it remain that uncomplicated?
There was a portrait of my grandmother in the livingroom. I remember sneaking out to it at night and praying.. to god, to her, to the portrait, to the darkness.. to please please put my life back the way it had been before she died. I was selfish, yes. I was 9 years old. I also was blissfully ignorant at that point to all the intricate ways that the death of a parent can rip you apart. Something I'd eventually become quite familiar with.
She'd have me help her clean the house.. put on Roy Orbison's "Mystery Girl" album and cry and sing and remember. those were healing days.. but few and far between.
My mother asked my father to move back in with us at home. she couldn't do it alone anymore. It's something I celebrated at the time but came to loathe. My mother and father were not just oil and water, they were gasoline and sparks.
at the time, all I knew is that I had a family again. an honest to god quote unquote normal family unit. She asked him back under the stipulation that he understand fully it was just to help her through the grief.. but of course how could it remain that uncomplicated?
Comments:
CrystallineTulip (May 16, 2007. 01:45pm)
"I remember her so clearly, sobbing through her hands and saying 'I want my mommy back' and I remember thinking 'So do I.'" What a picture you've painted! Your memories seems so vivid.