On Mother's Day

Wow. It is washing over me as I sit here on the Saturday night before Mother's Day, like a movie in fast forward with no sound. My Mom died in February, the twenty sixth to be exact. Dad died 18 years ago this coming fall. In March a childhood friend posted a picture of nothing. It was so nothing that I didn't recognize it as the land my childhood house had once stood on. Now just grass, no sign of a home having ever been there. I felt the eraser sweep across my life. In March my "other mother" came to visit the day after her sister in law died, two weeks after her brother died. I am loosely calling it a visit because what it actually was a rescue mission. My other mother, who I call Molly, gave birth to me secretly almost 50 years ago. Catholic Charities took it from there, placing me in my family as the youngest of four. Molly came in March and cooked and cleaned and picked kids up from school and soothed my soul while I tended to Melanoma Man in the hospital. It was hard to let her leave. Uncool Wayne, Melanoma Man's brother came again a few weeks later. He too worked hard, swept the garage, cooked, cleaned, helped with homework, kept kids in high spirits.

Weekdays keep me at full pace, up at 5 am, home at 6 pm, homework or karate or dinner or homework with kids. Then a night of restless sleep followed by Coffee. Molly gifted me with an automatic shut off coffeemaker, in case I forget. Saturdays, after lunch, it usually hits me, the "to dos"and the seriousness of this melanoma. I am struck with an intense desire to sleep. I attempt a nap, but it is really just a time out.

It is hard to take the high road again. This week I am grateful to Uncool Wayne who was very cool. I had to hide the keys from Melanoma Man last Sunday due to sneak driving last week. I have been the recipient of the silent treatment interrupted briefly by accusational emails. I want to take the early retirement plan, the buyout with severance and perks. No such plan for motherhood and wife hood is available.The high road takes a lot of energy and I don't have much to spare. So I called Uncool Wayne who has been nothing but good and kind. I called, not for a solution, not to ask him to turn on his brother, but simply to say to someone who has already seen the worst of Melanoma Man,"I am working my ass off at every job I have. This is horrible. I am awesome. I am protecting the people of the state of Florida by keeping the keys. I am trying not to hurt my children by being mean and spiteful to him with them as witnesses." And just to cry, and be heard. He listened, he understood, he wasn't upset by my upset.

Melanoma Man tried to tell me that I am killing him by keeping him imprisoned in our house, which almost made me laugh. Never mind the 25-30, cute stay at home moms who have offered and provided transportation to the kids and MM. Never mind the Uber and Lyft accounts he set up. Never mind the smart phone we just got for him.

The wheels don't turn right anymore. Sometimes himself, sometimes not, Today flowers came for Mother's Day. He sent me flowers when we got engaged, for each pregnancy and each delivery. So exactly 5 times. And then today. The vase is purple, my favorite color. I would like it very much if there were lines defining everything, giving clarity, good over here, bad over there's. It is all a blurry mess of bad and good mixed.