Author Topic: The sins of the mothers  (Read 917 times)

Dansinger

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The sins of the mothers
« on: January 22, 2018, 12:02:33 AM »
The sins of the mothers

At eighty-three and terminally ill, she still knew how to instill fear in her children. No love, no respect, no awe, but true fear. Of course she's had decades to perfect her craft, so there was no need for her to be or even look physically strong. Not anymore.

Her impending death worried Ro. Not because he loved her and feared he'd miss her when she was gone. It was the exact opposite that kept him awake at night. He didn't think he'd ever forgive himself for his first thoughts when she told him she was ill. Thank the gods she'll finally die. A son should never have these feelings about his mother, no matter what she's done to him. Besides, it wasn't really all that bad. She never abused him, did she?

It certainly wasn't her fault. She told him so herself. Often. It was her mother, his gran, who made her do it. She loved him with all her heart. He'd always been special to her. More special than his sisters, whom she also loved very much.

He was so small, so delicate. So vulnerable. His feelings were so deep and he was so easily upset. She never wanted to hurt him. That's why she didn't discipline him as often or as harsh as his sisters. And he had to believe her when she told him her punishments hurt her more than him.

She always warned him when she got angry. “See my hands? They're growing hard already.” Then she'd hold out her hands for him to see, and sure enough, he saw. Under that strained skin, that was getting redder by the second, her bones were turning into iron rods. She would hit him. Hard. And when he dared cry, she'd tell him to shut up or she'd give him reason to cry and hit him even harder. So he'd choke on his tears and hope it would all be over soon.

No, it was definitely not her fault. It was his. He was a dirty little filth bag who peed his pants. Was it any wonder she got fed up with the nasty stinking mess he made of himself? Surely she had every reason to rub his face with his wet, piss stained underwear. It was his just desert for being such a disgusting pig.

She was strict, but not abusive. When he made a big fuss because he didn't want to do the dishes she warned him to not break anything, or she'd break all his bones and throw him off the balcony. But when, to his own dismay, he did break a wineglass and ran to hide under his bed, she'd only beaten him. No bones were broken and though he was shaken, he was still very much alive. And that beating was well deserved. He shouldn't have been so clumsy.

It definitely wasn't her. It was his own stupid vulnerability that plunged him into the depression that nearly cost him his life. He took life and himself too bloody seriously. She'd even warned him: “A guy can make himself crazy whenever he wants to.” He'd driven himself insane with his idiot sensibilities, and in his madness he kept hearing her voice, screeching at him to behave or else. His skin would itch and burn where she touched him, and the monsters that only used to come to him in his dreams now haunted him day and night.

All of that belonged in the past. A past best forgotten. She'd always been a good and loving mother to her children. It wasn't her fault that she had such a tortured childhood. But gran was long dead and who'd dare speak ill of the dead?

Soon, Mum would be gone too. Ro went to visit her as often as he could in a last effort to be a good son. He wanted to love and honour her, but still the feelings would not come. He could feel compassion for the frail woman so close to her death, but not the love he felt so easily and abundantly for Dad.

When Mum asked him to sing on her funeral he said yes immediately. It was a small thing to do, and a way to at least honour her even if the love wasn't there. In fact, his lack of love would make the singing a lot easier. There was one caveat however and he could not tell her, for he feared her reaction.

His upcoming surgery would leave him unable to sing for at least a couple of months, which meant she'd have to stay alive that long. But how could he tell her he was going to have surgery? She'd be so upset. To her, he was perfect the way god made him, and to correct his deformities was sacrilege. It had taken him decades to acknowledge that he was indeed deformed, and from there it had been several more years to decide that he really did want this surgery, so he wouldn't look different from other men. He would not postpone the procedure. And he most definitely was not going to let anyone talk him out of that. Least of all his dying mother.
« Last Edit: January 22, 2018, 12:25:13 AM by Dansinger »
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DGSquared

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Re: The sins of the mothers
« Reply #1 on: November 08, 2019, 07:39:20 AM »
Dan, this is a deeply moving piece. I'm curious to know where this adult child goes and how he grows after the mother's death. This feels personal and it tapped a few buttons.
"Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read." -Groucho Marx

A child’s life is like a piece of paper on which every passerby leaves a mark. -Chinese proverb

Blondesplosion! ~Deb

Dansinger

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Re: The sins of the mothers
« Reply #2 on: November 08, 2019, 08:55:15 PM »
Gosh, Deb! I'd forgotten all about this little piece. So I read it back. Caught a few typos, which I should correct. I might actually go back and do that.

Personal eh? You might just be right. The mother died, and Ro and his dad grew closer than ever before. But sometimes it seems like he's struggling to keep his own feeling re. his mother hidden from his dad and sisters, who seem to have genuinely loved her. Ro doesn't want to hurt or upset them

Oh, and thanks.  :-*
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