Thursday, May 24th, 2007
My Mommy calls out to me across the miles. This week, I finally finish packing. Next week, I move. us into our pretty West side garden suite. Shortly thereafter, to fly to Prince George. Armed with a blender, juicer and a heart full of happiness. I am going back home, to give all I am, to my first love. The Woman who brought me life, is losing her own. And I am the only one who knows how to awaken her sleeping beauty. I've done it before and I'll do it, again. I owe this much and forever more.
Today's sunspilled afternoon, I bathed the patio deck with my tears. On the phone, listening to my Mom cry out in pain. Broken pelvis, a wheelchair and nary a promised visit. Frequent love letters from her first- born, Katherine, keep her company. Past hurts haunt her head. Drugs fill her bloated little body. Forgotten and neglected. The one who loved so many, alone in intensive care. I feel her broken heart. This never had to happen. A human tragedy.
My Sister's still blame her for leaving Dad. So many resentments. Don't they know forgiveness can heal the forgiven and the forgiver? " She gave you life. She could have aborted you, adopted you out or shipped you to foster homes. She didn't. "In spite of everything, she looked after all of us and suffered for her wise decision" , I remind my Sister in Cranbrook. Merely being warned, " You have to let go, Kathy. She is getting old. This is what happens." Again, I can hardly believe my ears.
Far from deterred, I talk to a lovely Nurse whom allows Mom to speak with me. I discuss implimenting more roughage and raw fruits, with the wonderful Nutritionist. " You're a very caring daughter. I look forward to meeting you" , I am told. So grateful for kind words, I begin to cry. Gratitude I never received, during all that tumultuous time. How I began to believe something must be wrong with me. After all, no one complimented me. It was more than intimated that I was never good enough. Sadly, I began to believe it.
Ever since my precious Son's birth, close to a dozen years ago, I began sharing, " My Mother, taught me how to love ... everyone. My Son, taught me how to love ... myself." And with this knowledge, I have absolute power. Not over anyone or anything. Unlike so many others, my strength travels through me. Coursing through my veins and filling me with a lightness of being and a boldness rarely seen. This is how I have healed myself and I shall once upon a sad fairytale, begin to heal the roken heart that first made mine so beautifully beat!
Katherine A. Marion