BH and i were having this discussion the other day about change. Is it possible at our age? Me, being the eternal optimist, argued on the positive side, while he believes we’re pretty much formed and not much will change that.
I think I’ve been a little short in my higher side lately, so I’ve been reading Sandra Anne Taylor, one of my metaphysical authors who assists me in getting back on track. What are the behaviors that impede your progress? Get a notebook and start by writing them down. it’s supposed to help me recode my reactions….kind of like hypnosis, I’m hoping.
One of my worst traits is being oversensitive. One simple expressed observation morphs into an attack on my character. Objectively, I know this is my mother who is about the most critical , divisive and judgmental person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. So, get over it, I say to myself!
This week, I called her and she starts accusing me of selling her house as soon as she’s gone as in passed away. I don’t want the house, Mom. We all know she’s written a clause into her will that requires that her house be turned into a “Christian” retreat. Not a retreat for anyone who needs help. Oh, no. You have to be a fundamental, evangelistic Christian. How she’s going to control that from the grave is anyone’s guess but this is something I want absolutely nothing to do with. But, then, I wouldn’t be allowed to go there anyway.
It’s fascinating what happens to people as they age. It seems there’s no happy medium—they either get really sweet or really cranky. My grandfather, my mom’s father, was a product of his generation aka racist. He once asked me when I was teaching in an urban high school in Connecticut, “Can’t you find some pick-a-ninnies to teach down here?” Cringe. The man had no filter. Then I married out of my race and had biracial children. Obviously, I was persona non grata until he lost his mind. The last time I saw him was when he was 90 and he lit up when he saw me. “Where have you been, Brenda?” Cranky into sweet. Saved it for his final year.
And, now, we’re dealing with his daughter who’s getting angrier and more judgmental by the day. Should I be hoping she loses her mind and gets a little nicer and finds some humility and gratitude? Of course not. My brother is convinced she'll change. Me? Not so much. Even me, the eternal optimist, doesn’t hold out much hope for that.
Here’s what I’m waiting for. I’m waiting for the conversation we’re going to have when she passes to the other side. Of course, she’ll probably outlive me. But, my fantasy is that she’ll finally see that judging others is not productive and that unconditional love is possible on this side. Heaven knows, I’m trying here…lol. I know she’s a child of God, too.
Karma is a strange thing. What if I don’t resolve this relationship and have to come back with her again? I always wanted that warm, fuzzy mom, but NOOOOO. Not in this lifetime.
Okay, I’m being a little woo woo here but that’s me. Almost never do I remember my dreams. But, last night, I dreamt I was with my cousin, Jeff, in Orlando and I wanted him to come back to Venice with me. My gregarious cousin died in 1992 at age 32, leaving us all bereft. In 23 years, this is the first time I remember dreaming about him. It was as real as I am sitting here writing this post.
Maybe he came to me because tomorrow I’m going to Cassadaga, the renowned spiritualist community, to get a reading. Maybe he’ll come to me. Maybe my grandmother. Maybe my father. You just never know who’s going to show up. Whoever comes, could they give me some insight here, PUH-LEEZE??!
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