Dementia, Schementia

NOTE:
I find it hard sometimes to know what I should and should not write here. I think the main reason for my sporadic posting (other than a lack of time) is what I want to write about - I feel I shouldn't.

“God have mercy on the man who doubts what he’s sure of” – Bruce Springsteen

Last fall, The Nanny filed a lawsuit against The Grandma, accusing her of a lot of things. Things I know to be false. Money and a jilted lover are involved. When those two things meet, nothing good can come of it.

My emotions have gone to all extremes over this whole issue, and I have felt like a protector, advocate, victim and vigilante many times over the past several months. Through it all, I have constantly felt like I was in the middle.

I was driving Robby home from school one day and I was telling him that yes, Mamas do always come back and they do always love their kids no matter what. I felt like I was only telling him a partial truth. I will always come back, Robby. I will always love you, no matter what, Robby. As for every Mama? Well, I know that isn’t true for every Mama, Robby.

Sometimes Mamas don’t come back.
Sometimes Mamas don’t ever love their kids.

I know first hand it’s a hurtful thing when a Mama doesn’t come back. My Mama left and didn’t come back for two years. It’s a thing I don’t want Robby ever to feel. And while it’s a hurtful thing, it is yet a forgivable thing for me. Mama’s not ever loving their kids is where I struggle with forgiveness. This is strange, since I can look at the circumstances of the Mama and see where she was left behind, see her disease and see her pain when she did the leaving. I cannot see any of those things when I look at her Mama. She never loved her child. I can think of nothing that factors into why or how this could ever happen.

If a Mama never loves her child, is it possible for her to love her grandchildren? Sometimes I say yes, but I really think the answer is no. Maybe all the “love” a Mama gives her grandchild is just a way to get back at her own child; put another spike through that little broken heart.

Even if illness plays a part in recent history, it cannot explain 67 years of slowly killing a soul. Any Mama capable of that deserves no part in knowing the joys of grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

This may sound harsh, cold and bitter. Maybe it is. I can tell you that mine is soul in pain. I have been left again. All the feelings, given and received, of love and the belief that this love shared was unconditional, all seem false to me now. I know I love her still. I know I loved her with all my heart then and my love was unconditional then. Today, the conditions have changed. I don’t have another forgiveness in me.