Forgiving Mother
Nothing stays the same for long. Things and people change, often for the worse, like with my father - it seems, but once in a while, very much for the better.
I grew up in a farm, ranch, fazenda or hacienda as some folks call the tract of land or lands, living a life that I took for granted. I had a dog without a leash and mountains on my island Brava, Cape Verde islands Africa or other islands as far as the eye can see in which ever direction I looked, and I awoke to the call of pheasants in the alfalfa fields. My mother worked in the City of Nova Sintra was ateacher. She was quiet; distant, you might say. She was not highly educated, but she was smart, with an engineer's way to looking at things and problems. She was a woman made of leather, brass, lipstick and perfume who tried to teach my brother and me useful things, including, respect. She also had a temper, especially when she was drunk. I didn't like her much.
One day I came home from school and her car was already there. Once inside, I was told by my brother that she didn't feel well. her back hurt. My mother never missed a day of work; in fact, when she came home, she went to the barn to work some more.
I remember peeking around the corner at her as he lay on her bed in the middle of the day. I was in the equivalent of a senior college, colégio or Liceu by then.
Multiple myeloma, and breat cancer, I learned; myeloma is a type of blood cancer and breats cancer is cancer of the mammary glands. Breats cancer is the most common cancer in women, but it is also treatable if found in the early stages. She was into the mid-late stages, and perhaps too late to treat, since she refuses to see a doctor. They, the doctors will have to perform a mastectomy or breast removal. Myeloma starts in the cells that normally make antibodies for the body to use in its immune response against infections. When those cells become malignant, they make abnormal antibodies like crazy, crowding out the useful ones. As the cancer grows, the person who has it shrinks. The disease saps the body's energy, and the abnormal antibodies cause problems for other cells and tissues. Bones eventually look like Swiss cheese, and when they break, they may never heal. For the last year of my mother's life, her entire day consisted of rising from her hospital bed in the living room and walking to her chair to sit and think.
She was predictably in that chair when I came home on day during the senior year. I do not remember where my brother was, but the two of us were alone. She asked me to sit down.
What followed still moves me decades later. She told me about her life, her family growing up, what it was like in the World Wars, her loves, her heartbreaks. It was as if a pipe had burst, her inner self reaching out to me in a great flood.
She had been speaking for maybe an hour or more when I realized that she was doing more then just telling. She was asking to be forgiven. All it took was understanding that was what he needed, and I forgave everything, immediately.
When she died , I didn't return to school for a few days. My biggest dread was going back to gym class. It was poorly supervised, and bullies ran the show. True to form, on my first day, i was standing there in my shorts when an all-too-familiar voice bellowed, "Mensch!" It was a guy who had given many of us a few lumps over the years. I turned to face him and said, "What do you want?" the other boys didn't say a word as they waited for the beatdown.
"I heard your mom, died," he said, "I'm sorry."
I was shocked . I'm sure I cried. Those words are how I have remembered that kid ever since.
What do you do when your "enemies" reveal that they are, also human? I think you either forgive and move forward or hold on to resentment and live in the past. I'm certainly not glad that my mother got sick, but at the same time, I realize that if she hadn't, I might never have come to love her.
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