Dear Mom,
Almost four years ago to the day (just before Easter, coincidentally), you were diagnosed with endometrial (uterine) cancer, which was, if I recall, was "95% survivable." You were part of the 5%.
I remember suppressing the sense of dread emanating from my chest after you received the news. You were going to pieces, how could I not try and offer some calm? You wondered how to hide the news from your parents. I counselled against this and (analysing in hindsight) practically forced you to tell them. They lingered in Florida for a month before returning home to New York. I might condemn them and beat my chest, saying that I'd be on the next plane if my child got that diagnosis - but I returned to the UK to finish out the semester after Easter break.
You didn't want either my sister or me with you at the hospital for the chemo sessions. I didn't care to be pushed away or left home like a 5 year old, but I held my tongue and respected your choice. While you were out for your first treatment, I sold my last and dearest gold coin, a 1925 sovereign of George V. With it, I bought you pajamas, a necklace, and a robe. I set aside a few dollars for a much-needed beer and the remainder for the future.
I remember when we brought Jack home as a puppy. You saw how alone and miserable I was during my school years. Having the dog was a blessing during those last two years of high school when it seemed I couldn't last a month without some sort of hysterical breakdown. Because a dog doesn't care if you're "not one of the guys", but does appreciate when you give him a forbidden treat from the refrigerator. He lives with dad now (can you believe he's 8?!). When it comes to mind, I get a sinking/empty/abyssal feeling because I probably won't see him again.
I am so happy that you came to Scotland to see me in my prime: in a place I loved & surrounded by friends. "The boys" are doing well, although one is off the radar. One even came to New York to visit, right before the house was sold! After that visit, our neighbour told me that you were thrilled I had been on a date with a young lady.
This would be a good time to mention that I'm gay. I was so thoroughly in denial that I didn't realise it myself until your passing left me so mentally exhausted (and the fighting after with family so thoroughly destroyed) that I was incapable of continued denial. I was too ashamed of the lie to come out in my last year in Scotland (even though I was aware for the whole damn year), and too afraid that the family would find out (they still don't know). I can't imagine how this would have "gone down" in life, although I can imagine the pressure it would have put on you. I know how much your sister was afraid her sons might inherit "it" from your brother/my uncle. In an ideal world, we would have told them to F off and then treated ourselves to brunch, preferably at a 5-star property in Manhattan. Anyway, given my continent-hopping, there was no one with whom to "celebrate" this era with. It seems to have tainted my ability to socialise, as "the gay" seems to take precedence over whatever else constitutes me. Oh, and going back in the closet when I've been back in New York really sucks.
Oh, and everything with the family went to shit before you hit ambient temperature. Dad turned into a useless leech pretty quickly. When he moved back home, he brought the work dog with him and leached off of the estate/us. Because we paid the property taxes, he was able to afford to buy a car for the first time in cash rather than leasing. He ruined your marriage with his alcoholism and spending in the 80s and 90s, and his broken promise to pay the taxes cost the estate over $30,000. For some reason, your deadbeat ex/my dad merits endless forbearance from YOUR FATHER. What man would tolerate some loser bringing such misery on his daughter and grandchildren?! Your brother (the executor of the estate) lacked the balls to protect the estate and defy his father. As a result, I hate my father and have lost all respect for my grandfather, particularly after the latter gratuitously insulted and denigrated every aspect of my character and intellect he could (resulting in anger and tears in 2011, 12, 13, and 14...once or twice a year). For the record, your mother/grandma seems to loathe me. She sees all that I am as a scornful rebuke of your memory and (valiant single-)parenting.
It should be no surprise that I left for Australia almost immediately graduating from Scotland. Those were...interesting times. There were great people, although I compensated for a lack purpose, isolation/burnt bridges, and "otherness" with reckless spending (mostly to inflate my sense of self-importance/worth) and liberal drinking.
After that odyssey ended and I had bled myself white financially, I returned to NY to unload the house, for which your mother (grandma) will likely never forgive me. For some reason, a house that neither of your children lived in since 2011 took until 2014 to go on the market. What a waste! I remember walking into the cold and empty house (it had long ceased to be "home"). I was finally (though not legally) the "lord of the manor" - over half the furniture was gone, the internal temperature was 55F/12C, and I couldn't even find a picture of you, until a month later when I found your school ID badge, still the only physical photo I've got. I threw out or sold so many things - books, mementos, jewelry, extra clothing, and even my bagpipes. With some things, you can feel the heart breaking.
It was renovated and sold. There is still $40k missing from the sale, and I gave up months ago on expecting answers to phone calls (not specific to this issue). It was during this sojourn back home that I had the visitor from England. Those were the best two weeks of 2014.
Now I am in Auckland, NZ for my PhD. It's an agreeable place, although I can't help but feel that I'd be writing from a more prestigious location had I worked more for my BA & MA. Then again, this is still much better than having a boss (I shudder to think at how medicated I'd need to be for that).
Holidays bring out the worst in me. I remember when the Germans were over for Easter, and the two of us later lamented how the leg of lamb came out. Your ruined lamb would be more welcome now than any of the fine and expensive meals I've somehow decided that I earned/deserved. Put another way, soldiering on alone is the problem. Even when I hated myself (this is not a rare state of being), you still loved me. I miss the hugs, the telephone chats, and having someone I can count on. My friendships have atrophied and no more need be said about the family. Because I am too cheap, I live with other people and thus can't just have a good lay on the couch. Because I don't feel confident in (burdening) my remaining friendships, I don't dare to ask for their time/help. I ordered an instrument called a guqin, a traditional Chinese instrument - its music thought to be a pure expression of a scholar's mind and heart. I thought the process of learning/playing it might provide a needed outlet. Perhaps that will help.
I cannot help but recall how I still am dependent on you. I wasn't heading to a glorious career and hadn't secured an internship/work experience while you were alive. Without your estate, I would not have been able to continue my education and could well have been stuck in that category of over-educated, under-connected, under-employed millennials. You would have been disappointed. I'm not on a Rhodes Scholarship now, but it's something (for how long?).
I miss you terribly. Even if the world is blind to it, I feel it when I wake up, when I cook & eat, when I exercise, when I study, and before I drift off to sleep. I still see you in my dreams.
Your son loves you,
-J
Submitted April 05, 2015 at 10:19AM by Amelorn http://ift.tt/1C3FYEj offmychest
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