My mother called my brother and left a long message on his voicemail about how she only has two months left to live. She said her kidneys and liver are failing. She talked about how she had loved him so much since the day he was born. She talked about how I had written her out of my life, how she knew she had been a shitty parent, but that she did the best she could. My poor brother is only 21. Life hasn’t quite gotten ahold of him yet to flash it’s super big disappointments his way. I hope that it never does. He has a wonderful fiancee that loves him with everything she has in her. They were high school sweethearts. They will have a wonderful life together. He has a father that loves him, two grandparents that adore him. I am so glad that life has turned out this way for him.
The part that sucks is that he is still very much affected by the crap that my mother spouts from her mouth. It makes him sad. He thinks ‘maybe this time she’s telling the truth’ or ‘what if she’s telling the truth and she really does die. Will I feel guilty for not believing her?’ I both hate and envy that kind of thought process. I don’t want him to ever feel like he didn’t do enough for her. He has given her money, his attention, his affection, and it has all been wasted. I envy that he is still capable of feeling this way, because it has long since departed from my bag of empathy towards that woman.
What I think has happened is that she has burned all of the bridges she has with any friends that she had left. She turns on the sympathy well to the one person that she knows is still tender-hearted enough to care. She must have forgotten how much she abandoned my brother when we were younger. She forgets that I was the one that got up with him in the mornings and watched him all day long, missing day after day of school because she wasn’t capable of taking care of him. His dad worked three jobs to support our family and she refused to hold a job because of her ‘health problems’ that haven’t killed her yet, though God only knows they should have by now since she is so ‘terminal’.
She didn’t call me; she knows better. I’m the horrible child. I’m the one with the cold heart.
I’m just the one that has had enough of her crap. He has too, but I think it’s harder for him to remember some of the bad times because he was so young when a bulk of it was going on. But he knows. He has had his fair share. My mother is no sooner dying from kidney and liver failure than I am. And if she is, well, she shouldn’t have cried wolf for 20 years. It’s bad enough she has been cured from a cancer that doesn’t even exist, now she’s stealing the way that my grandmother died and making it her own illness. I guess she finally figured out that dying from ‘microevasive cancer’ wasn’t a real possibility, so now she has to pull from the knowledge that she does know – since we all watched my grandmother die – and use that to her advantage.
It will be a strange day when she finally does die.