TODAY IS THE 8TH ANNIVERSARY OF MY MOTHER’S PASSING.
Last night I chatted w/ a lady who used to live w/ us back in my short pants days. She has always been gregarious and last night was no exception. Mommy came up and when I mentioned that today was going to be the anniversary she commenced talking, and talking and talking. She told me stories about living with us (some stories she kept repeating) and life lessons that she learned from Mommy.
I’m glad I am stronger. It would have killed me to be talking like that about it even 3 years ago. Not once did she ask me how I felt about it. Not once did she elicit my feelings. She just talked. It’s a phenomenon that I’ve noticed. People who miss Mommy seem to think it’s okay to monopolize the conversation when talking to me about her. They love to tell stories about her w/o any consideration as to whether or not I am in a strong enough place to hear. They did it soon after she was gone and they are still doing it now. Whenever they see/hear from me; they think of Mommy. At least that part is good.
The bad part is that I’ve had to endure some pretty difficult moments when they have ranted and raved about my father, about his new wife, about their intense dislike of her–again w/o regard to my emotional state.
I have tried to say soothing words, words to nudge these free-for-all conversations in other directions; to cool the burning embers from the aftermath of Mommy’s death but to no avail. I’ve even stopped calling them except on random enough occasions such that I am not perceived as being “rude”. I don’t want to be rude to my elders and I understand their feelings but I think one of these days I’m going to say–gently, but firmly; “please let’s not talk about this anymore–unless you have good to say.”
No matter how hard I have tried; those words that come rushing from deep wells of anguish DO NOT run/wash off my back like water. I do my best to release them. I pray. I sigh a lot–it helps prevent me from unintentionally holding my breath. While all of this has been painful, the worse part comes later. It’s neverduring those conversations that I am most affected. It’s after a few days of unconscious processing that I find myself disgruntled, upset and teary. Sometimes it takes me a few more days after that to realize I’m upset b/c of the vitriolic words spewing from their lips.
Thanks be to GOD those words don’t lead to the outpouring of tears that they once did.
I still don’t want to hear them.
I might suggest they get a therapist.
It’s not okay to pour their anger/pain/frustration into my path. I’ve had enough myself.