Memory Landslide

So, after our mom sent us a group text essentially cutting us out of her life, my sister and I decided to reach out to our dad. If anyone can reach Mom it’s Dad. As I suspected, he knew nothing about the text she sent us but he wasn’t totally surprised. Ever the diplomat, he tried explaining how hard this is for her and how scared she is having cancer a second time. Both my sister and I understand this. We understand it is hard and she is scared. We are all scared. My sister and I tried focusing on how to move forward because the reality is, this recent lashing out is not totally out-of-character for our mom. Granted it is by far the strongest shove away from her, but there has always been that passive-aggressive push and pull with our mom. It’s just more poignant now because she is sick. My dad seems to think she just wants us to come sit with her and hold her hand. She doesn’t want us to try to help her clean the house or fix up her flower beds or any of the things we’ve been trying to do for her, albeit poorly. In his charitable view, my dad forgets that sitting and holding her hand leaves ample room for her to criticize and pick at us, berate us for nothing being there for her enough. Mom is angry and bitter and she has decided my sister and I should be the targets for her vitriol. Of course my dad explained she is angry and bitter because cancer has taken so much from her. Yes, cancer took away her mobility and energy, my sister and I didn’t do it. In the phone conversation we had with our dad my sister and I pleaded for our mom to seek professional help with a counselor. My dad said she won’t. He mentioned she might be willing to speak to our former pastor. And so I have been tasked with reaching out via the email address I found through a Google search, and asking if this pastor would be willing to speak to our mom.

 

There is a history here. One that makes it hard for me to know what to say in reaching out. I’m sure bygones are bygones and all that, but I’m fairly certain the last time I interacted with this pastor it wasn’t on the most pleasant terms. In the simplest terms possible, the pastor was the leader of our small church when I was a teenager. Another man, who happened to be our neighbor and who my parents happened to introduce to the church, had the ear of the pastor. He didn’t like something our youth pastor did and so they excused the youth pastor and his wife and as a teenager, this was just life-altering. Our youth group fell apart at that point. My sister and I tried to continue going to that church, but we didn’t last long. Of course there are more details to the story and the politics of it all were distasteful in my opinion. The man who pushed the pastor to eliminate the youth pastor? Oh, he’s now one of our county commissioners. Life is interesting, isn’t it? So, in contemplating emailing the pastor, my memories of that trying time when I was in high school have started swirling back into my brain providing a roadblock to my email writing. What do I say and how do I say it? I’m asking him for help, but will my email trigger the same landslide of memories in him that I’ve been experiencing? He has moved on, to a different church, many years have passed. I’m fairly certain there isn’t any animosity, least of all for my parents. There is also a part of me who feels like I might be going these emotional acrobatics for no real reason if my mom is unwilling to talk to the pastor or he doesn’t feel it would be right for him to offer counseling to her. And in the end, will it really make a difference in the relationship between my sister, my mom and me?  

 

So, despite our reservations, Dad convinced us to continue with plans to celebrate Mom’s birthday with her this Saturday. My sister and brother-in-law will be driving up from D.C.. We are going to do something simple, just pizza and salads with s’mores and chocolate birthday cake for desert. We are going to use Primero’s projector to watch a movie outside and just relax together. My dad seems to think this can help smooth things over, but I’m not so sure. Still, it’s a plan and we are willing to give it a try.