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The Road Back

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The above title refers to Avengers #22 (original series) wherein in Part Two Captain America brings the good name of The Avengers back from a frame designed to disgrace the team and make them persona non grata to the world.

Typically upon succeeding in restoring the order of things Cap QUITS the team as he's fed up with their nonsense (my favorite Avenger Hawkeye had a bit to do with that--he grew up later--issue 29 to be exact.)

Having bared the soul yesterday of acculmulated mixed emotions and bitter regrets it is time now for the bounce back.

But before we begin of all the comments given including the private one Virgil's elicited the immediate reaction summed up in one word:

"SO?!?" The drama queen was proud and has been preening ever since. Satan's little demon whisperer is aglow. Ah getting Christians to act like Pharissees--how delightful how much fun.

But--Virgil in his wonderful way of less is more hit the nail on the head.

My mother is my mother. All the wishing in the world and numerous complaints to God won't change that or else I would have had my brother Bob's personal charisma and charm. Except for my idiot nephew Stephen everybody adores my brother and consider him the neatest thing since Burt Reynolds was popular (ruined when he dated Dinah Shore and treated Loni Anderson so shabbily.) But for a time Reynolds was King of Hollywood.

So indeed. Upon sober reflection Mom has always deserved better. She deserved children that would treat her with respect and dignity and above all have the courage to TALK to her about their troubles -- to try to reach her heart which so craves love and attention and affection. My mother could have been a jewel of grace and kindliness if her personal demons had not long ago built up walls that only my father was allowed thru and certain cherished friends.

The Bible speaks of forgiveness but I practice it as a convenience not a right and mercy to one and all. If you forgive quickly and in the form of lipservice there is much growth and unpleasant maturing you can avoid and Peter Pan can play longer.

I no longer have the luxury of the young years to hold against her. There was serious damage done to my social life and what few friends I had that can never be replaced. BUT she is my mother. At heart I never forgave her suicide attempt and the subsequent bitter spirit she developed. As an adult and fairly well-read in mature Christian readings and watching as I do relationships go up and down and all around it was my responsibility and should have been my joy to be a better son to honor this embattled woman who oddly enough has passed on her stubborn streak to me to fall and fall hard but bounce back for another shot at the world. In the long run it mattered not that she failed to SHOW her love in any meaningful Waltons type of display. I knew it was there. I could have grown from her critiques and cutting remarks to be a better man then discover ways to slowly block her out. I doubt she knows how much I love The Shadow pulps and the Avengers though I know she would remember Batman as she would buy me some. I stand ashamed at my bitter tirade of yesterday but I stand in it as an honest rant from a corrupted heart.

It's even more unseemly as I just KNEW some here at the net love me anyway and I am ashamed for causing them pain but somehow love them for their patience. Kizpaws is a keeper and I stand awestruck by her firm standing in place of the quiet onlooker of a friend in pain and ready to just be there for them.

Antiquarian is valued for her discernment and mature observations. Andave Ya's love and devotion to me often surpassing my own guttersnipes is amazing to me and highly treasured.

I received due sympathy as I was still raging a bit this afternoon. Tami was the first to realize that I had made closure with Mom long ago. But she was also the one to supply an answer to my dilemma.

Embarassing in its simplicity. If the worse happens. Airplane. AAA will take it out of my check over six months--no muss no fuss. Working with towing cars for so long has made me oblivious to the fact that AAA is a glorfied travel agency also. Trust me they wish more people would remember that.

I had told Ruth if I went it would be a solo act anyway. She has school. She had pointed out she took off for Amy's grand-daughter's funeral but I pointed out that was a necessary act of charity for a sister in Christ and I certainly don't want her making moon eyes at brother Bob. It's still really about money and I try to protect her from the more interesting sides of my family.

But for now Mom is rallying but not out the woods and God has been healing with the still small voice he used to Elijah.

Whichever way it goes for the first time in a long time I don't fear my mother--I feel a gentle sorrow for a life misspent in sorrow.

I love many of you here and hope to do better in the future.
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  1. motherhubbard's Avatar
    No one is judging your emotions, Rich. Sometimes it‘s harder to forgive mom than anyone. We want our mother’s love for us to overcome every other thing and reign supreme, and that want doesn’t go away when we are grown. I’m glad you’ve come to this decision. You sound like you feel better and I’m glad for that, too.
  2. Virgil's Avatar
    I was just putting it into perspective. You only know the details of your relatonship. Hey, I just thought of a wonderful poem on this very subject, about a woman who travels back home to her dying mother with whom she has had a tenuous relationship. It was written by a not so well know poet name Amy Clampitt. It's called "A Procession at Candlemas" and I found it on the internet. Here: http://www.geegaw.com/stories/a_proc...andlemas.shtml. I think I read this poem in a magazine when it first was published and I have been in love with it for twenty something years. Here are two exerpts:

    Sooner or later
    every trek becomes a funeral procession.
    The mother curtained in Intensive Care —

    a scene the mind leaves blank, fleeing instead
    toward scenes of transhumance2, the belled sheep
    moving up the Pyrenees, red-tassled pack llamas

    footing velvet-green precipices, the Kurdish
    women, jingling with bangles, gorgeous
    on their rug-piled mounts — already lying dead,

    bereavement altering the moving lights
    to a processional, a feast of Candlemas.
    and the conclusion:
    Memory,
    that exquisite blunderer, stumbling

    like a migrant bird that finds the flyway
    it hardly knew it knew except by instinct,
    down the long-unentered nave of childhood,

    late on a midwinter afternoon, alone
    among the snow-hung hollows of the windbreak
    on the far side of the orchard, encounters

    sheltering among the evergreens, a small
    stilled bird, its cap of clear yellow
    slit by a thread of scarlet — the untouched

    nucleus of fire, the lost connection
    hallowing the wizened effigy, the mother
    curtained in Intensive Care: a Candlemas

    of moving lights along Route 80, at nightfall,
    in falling snow, the stillness and the sorrow
    of things moving back to where they came from.
    edit: Unfortunately the blog comment posts destroys the poetry lines. Check the link for the entire poem.
  3. B-Mental's Avatar
    I'm sure you will make the best of it. I think you will find it easier to do than you believe, and also perhaps a little more painful. The past is past, and so it should remain. I wish you strength, B
  4. kiz_paws's Avatar
    Well firstly, Rich, your entry yesterday was the raw emotion coming out in your writing. Your honesty is admirable, sometimes it is very difficult to just spit it out what is bothering us. Too many people colour things up as a protection of sorts, I think. Protection for both sides -- the listener as well as the teller (hoping to heck I am making sense). I truly admire you for your honesty -- it takes guts to come out and just say how it really is. I am sad that you and your mother had a bit of a love/hate relationship, but this is not uncommon, and is certainly not a sin -- we are all born human, complete with that raw nature lurking behind the smiles. Well, I'll end my say by wishing you well in this journey, we know it is not easy for you by a long shot. And I repeat that I (and the others) are here for you. Take care, Rich, ~~ K♥zzo
  5. andave_ya's Avatar
    Rich, bravo. That's all I'm going to say.