“Exploring life through fiction, together.”

A little while ago, a previous neighbour had a heart attack. He was rushed to hospital and balanced on the brink. My friend bumped into his estranged son and asked him how it felt to know his father was on death's door. His answer was simple. Nothing.

Fiction Bite - Folding Tables and Paper Doilies

“You should forgive her, she’s still your mother”. Today it’s Edith over weak tea and soggy biscuits in the parish hall. Last week it was Jane as she handed me a hymn book. I bet they plan while flower arranging. Sort the roses, the lilies, and my dysfunctional relationship.

“You don’t know what she’s done,” I say. Edith’s thin, grey lips waft towards a smile.

“But I know a mother’s love.”

“Some people don’t deserve a second chance.” That scared Barbara off.

“The good Lord offers redemption to all. He asks that we do the same.”

“Not her.”

“Judge not, and you shall not be judged. Condemn not, and you shall not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.”

“She beat me,” I say between a sip of milky dishwater. “Every day for years. She’d pound me with a bible, while screaming for the demons to come out.” Edith’s mouth has fallen on one side. It’s either shock or a stroke. “She said she was trying to help me. So I took it, the beatings, the confinement, the burns, the boyfriends. Because she was my mother. Because I thought I loved her. Because I thought she loved me.” I crush my fingers around the chipped china cup, half hoping it will shatter and spray scarlet blood across the table. “But I got help. Then I got out. And now I’m not going anywhere near the goddamn witch. Jesus might forgive her, but I sure as hell can’t.”

The room is ice, no-one’s breathing. I sip more tea and bore my eyes into Edith’s twitching face. Shock, not stroke. She coughs, then drains her cup.

“So you won’t be joining the Mother’s Union then.”

Quote of the Week

“Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let go of them.

They move on. They move away.

The moments that used to define them are covered by

moments of their own accomplishments.

“It is not until much later, that

children understand;

their stories and all their accomplishments, sit atop the stories

of their mothers and fathers, stones upon stones,

beneath the water of their lives.” ― Paul Coelho

Book recommendation - The Adventures of Johnny Bunko: The Last Career Guide You’ll Ever Need by Daniel H. Pink [Manga, Self-Help]

Final Words

I have friends who don’t get along with their parents. I have friends who don’t get along with their kids. There are always reasons. Usually complicated, decade long ones. None chose this path. But enough have a wedge driven between them. This week, I’ve barely been able to put my kids down to go to the loo. From here to estranged seems impossible. Yet I’m scared. I’ve seen it happen despite people's best efforts. How can I be sure that’s not where we’re headed?

With Love,

Josiah

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