My mom died

 Mourn: 

1. to feel or show deep sorrow or regret for (someone or their death).

2.

to feel regret or sadness about (the loss or disappearance of something).

 

When I look at the definition of the word mourn, I see the part that makes the most sense for me.  #2:  to feel regret or sadness about the loss or disappearance of something.  

My siblings and I had a complicated relationship with our mother.  She died yesterday.  And when we were told, we all reacted in a very similar manner.  We had a bit of stoicism.  There was a sense of relief.  And there was and is sadness.  

It's so complicated. 

I can only tell my story.  Each of us has a different story and experience with her.  I'm having a hard time knowing what to think.  

Am I allowed to feel sad?  Is it awful to be a little relieved?  Exactly what am I mourning?  

My life with my mother was fraught with abuse and manipulation.  I won't go into all of the details because they are sordid and sad.  I am a stronger person, having endured that life.  I am also a person who doesn't always see my own worth, having endured that life.  A crazy dichotomy.  

My mother suffered a life with mental illness.  She was bi-polar, had borderline personality disorder and we suspect multiple personality disorder.  There were times she would speak in different voices when she was going off the rails, but only a select few ever saw that side of her.  

The last time I saw her I had just brought her about a hundred dollars worth of food. Boxes of meat, produce, pasta, etc...things to really sustain her. She then took the time to show me every picture in her house and she watched me as I slowly realized every picture of me and my boys were no longer among the pictures of my brothers and sister and their kids hanging in her home. I was erased. I remember being in shock of the surprise that she was so cruelly trying to hurt me. But I didn't break down in tears until I got in my car. Chris turned to me and said, "It took less than 30 seconds for you to cry after we left this time. We never have to go back again." And we never did.  The continued loss and disappearance of her in my life only became more profound. 

 

I have said for a long time I have mourned the loss of my mother years ago. I have been mentally preparing myself for years to mourn what I never had.  I never really had a loving mother.  The picture of a mother loving her children was never my reality.  There were good moments here and there, but by and far, the good moments of my childhood were with other people.  

 

I left the house for college at 18 and never looked back. I went home a few times for holidays and visits. I remember once being in my dorm and my mother calling me to tell me that she had a gun to her head and was going to kill herself. I called 911 on my roommates' phone, which went to campus police and then had to go to Pasadena city police to have officers sent to the house, where she told them I was lying.  

I moved to Omaha, Nebraska at 21. I lived there for 18 years and somewhere along the way I stopped talking to her for my sanity and the safety of my children. She would spread lies about me to anyone that would listen and people would. She told them I stole from her. She told them I had cancer. She told them anything she could to sully my reputation because I was trying to have a good life without her in it. We cut off ties with her many times, only to try and give her another chance later.

It always ended badly. 

 

So that brings me back to today.   

I am not surprised it happened.  I knew she hasn't been well this past year.  I am sad.  I am sad that we never had a special bond.  I am sad I never had a mother that showed me love.  I am sad that it will never be better and will never have a chance to change.  And I know people will never understand that I am sad when I choose to not have her in my life for the past decade.  There is that piece of me that wonders if I have a right to be sad.  Nobody understands that I had to distance myself for my own peace.  But I am sad at the finality of it and I find myself crying at random times. 

I am also relieved.  I am relieved she no longer has to face the demons that ruined her life.  I am relieved that she has some peace, finally.  And I am relieved she can no longer hurt me.  My husband had to also remind me that I deserved the peace the last 10 years away from her have given me.  I am not sure anything could feel more confusing than the thoughts that haven't stopped swirling in my head since I found out. 

I told my sister tonight that I wish it were different--that I wish she loved us and cared about our well being.  And she reminded me that we would not be the strong women we are if that were the case.  We had to learn from a young age to be resourceful and deal with what life gave us and come out of it all better than we were because of our origins.  Would we have survived everything if things were different?  

The few people who know what has happened have encouraged me to give myself grace to feel whatever I feel and to know that it is ok.  I will take their words to heart and hopefully my memories of her will soften over time.  And if they don't, I will still allow myself the grace to know my truth and feelings of the life I lived during those insane years are valid.  No matter what, I am grateful that she gave me my brothers and my sister.  From them, I have beautiful nieces and a nephew and great-nephews and a sister-in-law and a brother-in-law-to-be.  Without her, there wouldn't be a me.  And without me, there wouldn't be my sons: my boys are the best part of me.  

This is what her legacy is...not the ugliness of whatever we had to find our way through. 

There are beautiful people in this world.  And we came from her.  Even if it is in spite of her.  

 

Gloria Faith Bloch

Rest In Peace

September 16, 1942 - November 15, 2021 

I really do wish things could have been different.