whatever happens happens

i attended a funeral this week of an elderly gentleman who was a distant relation to my husband. funerals are often difficult to bare whether you have an emotional bond to the person or not. unfortunately they tend to remind me of past funerals, darker days i never wish to revisit. that combined with the dress code requirements; girl clothes, make it an extremely uncomfortable experience. so, needless to say, i was not looking forward to going.

i did think of my father but surprisingly it really wasn't that horrible. the emotional backwash i was expecting never came. i was not overwhelmed with unresolved moments. instead i just remembered bits and pieces of past days without all the extras.

perhaps i am turning an emotional corner in my life.

the most unsettling thing to realized about my father was that even though he was a monster, child molesting, wife beating drunk, he wasn't that all the time. there are days and moments and memories that pop into my head that are pleasant and happy. why couldn't he just be a complete and total monster? why did he have to have a kind and gentle side? it was confusing to live with and i hated it. i wanted him to be a man or a monster but not a combination of both.

but i guess that's not human nature. we switch and swing with our moods and emotions
changing on a daily basis, some of us just have better control than others and just like all the other abusers in the world, it's the ones you least expect that hurt you the most.

i find myself wondering which parent was the biggest baddest monster living in my childhood house.

my father taught me the importance of controlling my emotions. in order to survive my childhood i found it necessary to be in complete and utter control of all my feelings and emotions. if any thing, either good or bad, like or dislike was revealed, it could and would be used against me.

my mother taught me that i should always put myself last. that i should never think of my feelings, my needs, and my desires first. everyone around me was more important, more valuable, more than myself.

i keep trying to hold on, to be more for my mother than what she was for me. but i feel i'm loosing my grip, i'm letting her slip through my finger.
i don't feel guilty. i don't feel conflicted. i don't feel bad for not being 'good' or doing the right thing. and for the first time in my life i don't give a fuck what anyone else thinks about how much i'm doing or not doing to help care for my mother.

i decided to allow my mother's life to finish just as it was lived. give it to God.
whatever happens happens.