My daughter and I laugh at inappropriate things. I do it as a form of self-preservation. I assume (and yes, I do know what happens) that the same is true for her.
I should probably shut up now and just join a wordless wednesday group somewhere.
My mother has not spoken to me in 22 years. When I put a return address on cards, they are returned. I only did that once, actually. Now I don't put the address on them. In my imagination, she now opens them and reads them.
This is the same woman who is the grandma that loves my daughter unconditionally and vice versa.
Anyway, the newspaper where my mom lives is a weekly. Every Wednesday, I check the online version of Mom's paper, call my daughter and say, "It's Wednesday and your grandma's not dead."
We laugh. One of these weeks, we'll cry.
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8 comments:
I like it goooood.
What?! Does your daughter see her anymore?
That breaks my heart.
{{{Sandy}}} I used to do that, and actually still have my Dad's name saved in a Google search. I used to look into the faces of homeless people wondering if one might be him. He died 5 years ago and I didn't know him. Fortunately it was in a hospital and not under a bridge or in a multiple fatality car wreck. God only knows - and I'll pray for you and your mom.
Sandy,
I'm so sorry. My mom and I were only estranged for a couple of years. That was painful enough. I can't imagine 22 years. If God can heal our relationship, I know he can do it for you.
"Now unto him who is able to do exceedingly, abundantly beyond all that we can ask or even imagine..."
You are added to my Prayer Rock.
Kim
Oh dear. She probably really looks forward to receiving those no return address cards.
That is sad. :( I would think it would be hard for everyone involved that she is in one of your lives and not in the other's. :(
this is a very sad story, but i do understand your black humor. we survive on black humor, too, doug and i. he's the only person who can make me laugh every day--even the day my beloved sister died. it's not inappropriate; it's survival.
i'm sorry about your mother. mothers are complicated, play favorites, are flawed, are human, can be mean as snakes or nice as pie.
flawed like the rest of us.
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