again, grief denied

Yesterday, my cousin P (sister of the cousin who died) and I had a routine e-mail check-in about life, our families, etc.  After I mentioned that my father is still struggling and was recently assigned a new specialist who acted like "a zombie" (my parents' term), my cousin wondered if we had considered asking another cousin of ours for help.  He is someone who talks to medical specialists all day long in his work, and he has been helpful to my cousin as she has tried to sort through the noise she's heard from the doctors treating her brother, father, and mother. 

   

I knew that my parents hate to ask for any kind of help, but I have sensed a new level of overwhelm from them so I called my mom and asked her,“What do you think about…?”

 

She went ballistic and threatened me.  She was horrified to think that anyone (including my cousins who saw him in November) might know about my dad’s situation.  She would never, ever take advice or help from any of my cousins.  “You don’t know what *those kids* did to us!”  Blahblahblah

 

Angry, she ordered me to tell my cousin that my dad is doing just fine, in fact -- better than ever.

 

I said, “Mom, he’s dying.”

 

“It’s wrong for you to think that, Cathy.”

 

“But you told me two weeks ago that ‘this can’t go on much longer.’  What did you mean by that if it wasn’t that he is in the process of dying – however long that takes?”

 

“If your dad knew that you had been talking about his situation with anyone, he’d be very, very angry at you.” (said in the sadistic, horrifying tone I remember from my youth)

 

There was more, but man…  what a big mess…

 

I meant no harm.  My cousin meant no harm.  I actually haven’t given out many details about my dad to anyone.  I certainly don't write freely about this situation here, despite how much I long to open up about my grief and confusion. 

 

People who see him (including my cousins) know he’s sick.   How could they not?  His whole presence has changed, and he can barely move.   E knows no details but can see that he just sits uncomfortably in a soft chair.  Sometimes she asks me, "What will help Grandpa be able to get out of the chair?"  

 

But this revelation that my cousin might know that my dad is ill...  my mom became so unglued that you can't imagine...  We "kids" are all middle-aged now.  I can't imagine what purpose it serves to hide the truth or to keep catalogues of perceived transgressions that happened 30 years ago or more.  (As if a 13-year-old child or a 21-year-old adult  -- for example --  could have plotted a purposeful slime against my mother anyhow?)

 

I kept wondering, “Is she crazy?  Or am I?”  She feels this all so strongly.  Maybe I'm blind and wrong.

 

It reminded me so much of growing up with them.  I would understand something to be the truth based on what I was observing and intuiting, and when I would say that truth aloud, I’d get slammed (sometimes physically) and told that the truth was the opposite -- or whatever served my parents at the moment.  (Reality shifted frequently.)

 

Also, I don’t understand why it is so wrong to ask for help.  I remember asking my parents many times as a child if I could please talk to a counselor because I didn’t feel well in my mind, and they would twist it around so that I was doing something to hurt them, and it was out of the question for me to talk to anyone.  I never, ever wanted to hurt or blame them.  I just wanted some sanity so that I could cope better.

 

So I called my cousin last night and told her that I had been mistaken.  My dad actually is doing GREAT!  Better than ever, in fact.  And her sister S (who lives here) and I have booked plane tickets for a weekend visit to cousin P's mountainous state later this month.

 

I'm not sure if I'll spill much "truth" during the visit because I do feel some obligation to honor my parents' (obscene, unhealthy) need for privacy.  However, I won't be lying, and it will be a pleasure to hang out with two relatives who aren't afraid of reality.

 

On the phone with my mom, I wanted to scream, "Hey, I know he's your husband, and you have this system together where everything is okay even when it's not, but do you know what?  My dad is dying, and I have some feelings about that."

 

But I've had enough therapy to know that a sentence like "My dad is dying" would be used as an example of my extreme selfishness.  How dare I use the words I, me, mine or my anyway?

 

Someday (after quite some time), I may share here about what happened when I was 10 or 11 and tried to explain to my dad that I  (<--unacceptable pronoun) felt a little differently about something than he did. 

 

Dear Goddess, how did I get this far -- however broken you find me in this moment?

 

ohmy(buckwheat)god.  I am so tired.

 

 

Comments

[cynthia]

oh I'm so sorry honey.... you are not crazy, you are smart and sensitive and realistic.... take care...

[Bon]

something in the force of this - even with all that went unsaid - hit me with that thud of recognition that made me need to delurk and just say, yes.

you made it this far.

and they're caught up in their crazy, and i am sorry.

i am still learning my right to my feelings. every day, i fumble my way there.

good luck to you.