Mom and I were pretty close for many years and we spoke often on the phone before she drank herself into a raging dementia, damaging her body and mind. But she hasn’t drank in many months and I’m able to have a civil conversation with the woman.
Her blood feud with my brother, Mike has hurt her emotionally. It’s a typical stepfather/stepson situation. The son has issues tearing away from mom, jealousy, etc.
She has issues with my brother, which were projected upon me 5.5 years ago, (but who’s counting?) and has tapered off these last 2 weeks since we have become friends. They haven’t spoken in a while, leaving my 90% blind stepfather to tend to her when he returns home around 3pm. And then I’m off to work, so she’s not alone.
Never again.
When I arrived, the place was covered with dead cockroaches, food, dog feces and other disgusting items a blind man misses. They were, indeed, neglected and living in squalor.
It was after Christmas, Chris, my stepfather told me in a phone call that he had to use my Christmas money to buy oxygen for my mother. The next day, I gave my 2 week notice to my boss, Hazel and my landlady, Michelle, who have been so good to me since leaving the valley.
“My mom needs me.” I explained.
Today, we sat on the bed, talking:
“I just want to die.” Mom said. I want God to take
“God said, ‘No’”, I replied. “I tried in LA by almost getting hit by cars and multiple confrontations. God had plans for me to be here to help you and Chris.”
She looked at me and thought a bit.
“I tried drinking myself to death 30 years ago.” I reminded her. “And neglected my diabetes, with possible nerve damage and harming my vision. We die by inches, Mom. And I die in pieces. God sets that time. Not us.
I held my mom closer, enjoying her energy and kissing her with hugs and much love.
“You’re here for a reason.” I continued. “We don’t know what it is, but God does.”
She looked at me and smiled.
“I’m so proud of you.” She said, smiling.
We spoke for a while, longer than we had in years. We now sit and talk every morning, longer and longer, growing closer, again.
“I’ll be able to make another try to the kitchen.” She said with a smile. “You know how I love cooking. Today, I’ll make my chili you love so much.”
“I’ll be here for you, now mom.” I said giving her another kiss. “Always!”
It appears, showering her with love appears to be working. Her mind and body seem to be improving. Of course, I have help from the visiting spirits.
We’re never alone, now, are we?
CJ Davidson
Chronicler
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