My dad's funeral, 2006. I needed some air after the service, and my niece, studying photojournalism at the time, snapped this picture.
Alas, my life these days affords me no room for ultimate romance. I chose a path that I knew would lead to it. I chose my mom. So here I am, for now a laid off unemployed deadbeat who stays home and looks after his old mother. LOL! Who would want to date me for that?
Furthermore, I do not look after my elderly mom out of obligation. I do so because I love her deeply. I do it because I WANT TO. That's the difference. It means I'm genuine, true to myself, and I'm proud of that. Who wouldn't be? After all, she and Dad did a universe of selfless good for all of us kids, they raised us and gave us everything they could. How could I not want to repay them in kind?
The reason she calls me constantly when I'm out - which of course drives me crazy - is simple: she is scared to be alone. That is entirely understandable. I know that if I were in the same position (and we all will be sooner or later) I would probably feel the same. To die without seeing a loved one's face looking down at you for the very last time, without that final beautiful gaze of love and acknowledgment and closure, is a profoundly frightening thing. To me it's far worse than death itself.
So, I'm single and not available. The last thing I'd want is to drag a man into my situation. I wouldn't want him to suffer because I put my mom first. I do get lonely from time to time and wish I could fall asleep at night in someone's arms. But it would be just selfish of me to have that while not being entirely there for him because I put my mom first.
There's also the jobless factor. Until the economy picks up and I have a better chance I remain unemployed. I wouldn't want to not contribute to certain experiences like going on trips, buying dinners out, and birthday gifts for my man. I don't feel it would be a balanced relationship. I would want to spoil my boyfriend, lavish him with all the wisdom I learned from my past relationships and experiences. And that's just not possible yet.
But I do love to have affairs. I love such moments. It's a very healthy thing to do when it's consensual and safe and you both say "Yes, let's have fun and enjoy each other for a while!". You give yourselves permission. LOL, I call it 'being European'. It's great adventure and it can only enrich your life, add colour, texture and spice to it.
Some people define the worth of their life by whom they share it with. Some people define that worth by the fact that they are sharing their life with someone at all. Some define it by eschewing such relationships and preferring to go solo. And some define it by refusing to let someone else suffer for their own selfish desires and lack of priorities.
I am an amalgam of all four of those, not because I can't make my mind up. It's because I know how complex life can be and it's far better to embrace that complexity and know where I stand at certain given points in my life.
Furthermore, I do not look after my elderly mom out of obligation. I do so because I love her deeply. I do it because I WANT TO. That's the difference. It means I'm genuine, true to myself, and I'm proud of that. Who wouldn't be? After all, she and Dad did a universe of selfless good for all of us kids, they raised us and gave us everything they could. How could I not want to repay them in kind?
The reason she calls me constantly when I'm out - which of course drives me crazy - is simple: she is scared to be alone. That is entirely understandable. I know that if I were in the same position (and we all will be sooner or later) I would probably feel the same. To die without seeing a loved one's face looking down at you for the very last time, without that final beautiful gaze of love and acknowledgment and closure, is a profoundly frightening thing. To me it's far worse than death itself.
So, I'm single and not available. The last thing I'd want is to drag a man into my situation. I wouldn't want him to suffer because I put my mom first. I do get lonely from time to time and wish I could fall asleep at night in someone's arms. But it would be just selfish of me to have that while not being entirely there for him because I put my mom first.
There's also the jobless factor. Until the economy picks up and I have a better chance I remain unemployed. I wouldn't want to not contribute to certain experiences like going on trips, buying dinners out, and birthday gifts for my man. I don't feel it would be a balanced relationship. I would want to spoil my boyfriend, lavish him with all the wisdom I learned from my past relationships and experiences. And that's just not possible yet.
But I do love to have affairs. I love such moments. It's a very healthy thing to do when it's consensual and safe and you both say "Yes, let's have fun and enjoy each other for a while!". You give yourselves permission. LOL, I call it 'being European'. It's great adventure and it can only enrich your life, add colour, texture and spice to it.
Some people define the worth of their life by whom they share it with. Some people define that worth by the fact that they are sharing their life with someone at all. Some define it by eschewing such relationships and preferring to go solo. And some define it by refusing to let someone else suffer for their own selfish desires and lack of priorities.
I am an amalgam of all four of those, not because I can't make my mind up. It's because I know how complex life can be and it's far better to embrace that complexity and know where I stand at certain given points in my life.
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3 comments:
I understand about being there my friend. I would have never forgiven myself if I hadn't spent those last few years of my mother's life close by.
Writing hurts too much. Too much honesty. No real reason to write anything else.
There are things I have seen that I would rather not remember and things I remember that I would rather not see.
I write, when I do write, out of a need to understand. To filter and process what I am thinking, feeling, experiencing in the moment. Writing takes me out of the moment and places the now in an eternal null-space. Safe. Locked away from the pains of reality. Except when the safe places of the page aren't safe. For some reason I do not come to writing as well protected as I do life proper. My armour doesn't fit through the nib. Bare, i am left to feel the hollowness of my existence and the pangs of disprised love. What is missing has a much greater presence here than what merely is. How horrible to fear what isn't there. You will never be able to make it go away.
I don't write when I don't write...
I lost my Mother a year ago. I envy you. I fear too the honesty in what you choose to leave out of your writing. I feel too much of you is missing and that you write to make what remains more difficult to see.
I'm not sure why I felt the need to pass this along. No other would understand it as you. But that need for understanding speaks of a desperation that I cannot claim to feel. So why?
Perhaps because I feel nothing and wondered if I were to pass onto this thing that passes for a page I would, absent my sword and shield, remember what I would rather not see.
Love always. (my iPhone initially corrected this to read Live always and I cannot help but wonder which is the preferred state)
Bill
Love for ones mom is Gods gift only a son can truly give, that will give her more happyness than anything else.
My mom died while i was in prison, its a hurt that will stay with me forever and ever.
You are lucky to have this time with her.
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