Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Acceptance

I have been talking about writing again. Someday. Every week I read Mama Kat's blog posts on http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/ and think "Okay, this week is it"!

Well this week IS it.  And it's about acceptance.

I have been associated with a family who just lost their beautiful 11 year old son in a tragic accident.  It happened on New Year's Eve. The loss of this little boy has rocked me to my core. I look at my own 12-year-old son and cannot imagine being able to breathe if he wasn't on this earth with me anymore.  How could you even carry on?  I don't know.   How could anything ever seem to matter again?  I don't know and can't comprehend the loss.

I have a hard time defining my relationship with this family.  I wanted to think that I was good friends with Mindy. *not her real name* I wanted to think that she loved me as much as I loved her. I wanted to think that my family meant as much to her as her's does to me. I have come to accept that this isn't the case and probably never was.

Mindy & I have never a friendship of give and take. She takes and I give. This is has always been the terms of our friendship and it was terms that I have accepted for a variety of reasons. I don't mean to sound like a martyr, it just is the way it is.  I truly enjoy Mindy's company--she is funny as hell and we always had a lot to talk about. I remained friends with her for a variety of reasons that are so hard to explain. I am not entirely proud of the reasons I have allowed her to treat me the way she has for the last 5 years.

 When her son was in the hospital she texted me and told me what happened. I immediately asked what did she need me to do?  Did she want me to come to the hospital?  No. She didn't want me to come to the hospital. No.  She didn't want to see me. No.  I understood. And I know that her son's accident and passing 5 days later have nothing to do me. I do. I know.  

 For the next two weeks I received a flurry of texts assigning me jobs to do. HUGE big jobs I may add. "Call so-and-so and tell them about the accident. Call so-and-so and tell me that he passed away. Take all these millions of pictures and find somebody to do a power point for his services. Take these millions of pictures and find somebody to make his funeral program. Go to our kids school and talk to them about his passing and what support I need for my other son. Call the hospital and make them understand we need more time."  I did every single job Mindy asked me to do. I did my best. I knew even while I was carrying out the tasks that in the end she'd hate me.  I did it knowing it would never be  enough.

And she does. She hates me. Once all the jobs that I could do were done and the funeral was finished I have been told in no uncertain terms to leave her alone. I accepted it. I knew it was coming.  I know she is in mourning. I know that she's in a fog. I know that she's not thinking straight. I know that at the end of the day it has nothing to do with me.

I have accepted that Mindy hates me because I still have my boys. She hates me because I am a easy target.  When I sat in the funeral on Friday I cried and cried. I cried torrents of tears that ran down my cheeks in rivers, running down my chest and pooling in my bra. (For real ya'll, I am not a pretty crier). I cried for the loss of the beautiful little boy. I cried for the loss to the world and the light that went out for all of us when he died.  I mourned for my friendship with Mindy. I mourned for the loss of who Mindy was and who she will never be again now that she has lost her most precious possession.  And I accepted that forever and always I will be a reminder of what she lost and will never get back. I mourned that our friendship is forever and always dead. 

And that, my friends, is acceptance.