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Tuesday night, Mom got a call from Judy. For those of you new to our story, Judy is my mom�s best friend and my �other mother.� She moved to Rochester, NY a couple years ago, but has remained a very active part of our lives. My mother thinks of her as her sister.
Judy�s mother had a massive heart attack on Tuesday. Wednesday morning, Judy drove to Connecticut to see her, even though she was in a coma. The doctors didn�t expect her to come out of it, but thought there was a chance she would still be able to hear what people said to her. At least, that�s what they told Judy.
Judy and her mom didn�t have a great relationship. They�re both headstrong people who don�t like to compromise very much when pushed. Judy went to see her in her coma hoping to be able to make the peace with her she couldn�t before.
Wednesday night, they unplugged her life support. She died almost immediately.
Wednesday night, we went out to celebrate Amy�s birthday. That morning, despite everything that had been going on between her and her mom, she left a message for Betsy telling her what our plan was and inviting her to join us. I know this wasn�t easy for Amy to do, and I was very proud of her for taking that step.
All day, Betsy planned to go. The Husband was going to meet her at her office so she wouldn�t have to drive in together. Amy was thrilled that she was going to come.
I met everyone at the restaurant, since I came straight from work. The Husband and his dad arrived first, together, no Betsy in sight. �Where�s your mom?� I asked.
They glanced at each other. �She decided not to come,� the Husband sighed.
�Just�decided?�
�She called me right before we were supposed to leave and said not to bother picking her up,� Jim said. �I guess that as the time got closer she just panicked.�
�Cause this made things so much better.
Thankfully, Jim had called Amy and let her know, so she wasn�t surprised when she arrived to find our table set just for five, but the hurt look in her eyes was unmistakable. Point blank, her mother had rejected her, and there was nothing anyone could do to soften that.
We had a pleasant dinner regardless. Mom arrived a few minutes late, bearing a giant basket of tea things for Amy. It was a very impressive-looking gift, and Amy was touched. We planned some Thanksgiving activities (I kept my question as to whether Betsy will show for that to myself), tasted each other�s dinners and shared one of every dessert on the menu. Despite Betsy�s best efforts to the contrary, it was a successful evening.
Driving home, after we�d dropped his dad off, the Husband and I talked briefly about his mother�s failure to show up. I told him I thought she�d made a big mistake, and that I was disappointed. He agreed.
I couldn�t stop myself. The soapbox was out.
If I�ve learned nothing else in the past year, I�ve learned that life is way too short, and far more fragile than we realize. It only takes a second for yours to change irrevocably. In the time it takes to put the pork chops in the oven, your husband can be dead. In the space between two heartbeats, your mother�s in a coma. The chance to say the things you haven�t said, do the things you haven�t gotten to�gone. You can�t get them back. You�re left with a big pile of �what if�s� and �if only�s� and they�re not easy bedfellows.
Your anger may be the most righteous anger in the world. The hurt you�re nursing may be the deepest hurt. The wrong committed against you the most egregious wrong. Find a way to get past it. Move on. Let it go.
And above all, remember that your family is your family. You don�t get another one. You can�t choose a different one. Blood is blood.
All these things I want to say to Betsy. All of them I said instead just to the Husband. This is Betsy�s and Amy�s issue. I keep telling him not to get in the middle. I can�t go stick myself there instead.
But it�s so hard.
Your child is your child. Always. And right now, Amy is one hurt little girl. And she wants her mother, despite the things that were said. And Betsy turned her down.
How do you recover from that?
Sunday, Mom, the Husband and I are going to Judy�s mother�s wake. Send her some good thoughts, would you, if you have some to spare?
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