That's a sad thing to realize, but as of now they're both relatively healthy and happy -- still together after over half a century of marriage, no crippling money worries, finally able to relax and spend time together after all the bullshit of raising four children.
I sometimes wonder if they're not giving me the whole picture, if their life is as happy and carefree as it seems. They probably downplay the health issues, but I was there for my father's bypass operation...and from time to time, my mother does mention the ailments that chronically plague her. So I'm not kidding myself that it's all easy living at the old homestead, and I know that they'd rather not have me worry about them.
I struggle sometimes with the urge to blame them for my own deficiencies. I don't want to be the kind of ungrateful child that forgets the positive things about their upbringing and blows the negative parts way out of proportion. I force myself to use my reason and understanding, to be as objective as possible about my increasingly cloudy memories. If I am bitter, it is far more often directed at my own choices and squandered opportunities.
I sometimes wonder if they're not giving me the whole picture, if their life is as happy and carefree as it seems. They probably downplay the health issues, but I was there for my father's bypass operation...and from time to time, my mother does mention the ailments that chronically plague her. So I'm not kidding myself that it's all easy living at the old homestead, and I know that they'd rather not have me worry about them.
I struggle sometimes with the urge to blame them for my own deficiencies. I don't want to be the kind of ungrateful child that forgets the positive things about their upbringing and blows the negative parts way out of proportion. I force myself to use my reason and understanding, to be as objective as possible about my increasingly cloudy memories. If I am bitter, it is far more often directed at my own choices and squandered opportunities.
I had a childhood that many people would prefer. Two parents, a roof over our heads, enough food and water, and we never really lacked for any of the other things that we needed. My mother rarely worked, so she was usually there for us, and my father worked a lot, so there was usually enough money for the essentials. There was no physical abuse (that I saw, anyway...my sister hints that my father was tougher with my older siblings, but I know enough about her to know that she may be an unreliable witness).
Still, I have what some people might call "unresolved issues". I also have no real desire to bring any of them up to my parents. I'd like the two of them to be as happy as possible in their last years, and if that means that we don't address these things, so be it. After all, maybe my issues are ultimately unfounded -- like my sister, I may be interpreting and remembering things inaccurately, or perhaps I am simply trying to find someone else responsible for my own failures. Either way, I'd rather not make my parents sad.
My mother had a running rant about ungrateful children -- it was one of the themes she came back to from time to time during my first two decades, though rarely targeting me specifically (as far as I know). She may have a point, but you might alternately say that she was 'protesting too much' (i.e., anticipating or reacting to criticism that she heard or felt).
Still, I have what some people might call "unresolved issues". I also have no real desire to bring any of them up to my parents. I'd like the two of them to be as happy as possible in their last years, and if that means that we don't address these things, so be it. After all, maybe my issues are ultimately unfounded -- like my sister, I may be interpreting and remembering things inaccurately, or perhaps I am simply trying to find someone else responsible for my own failures. Either way, I'd rather not make my parents sad.
My mother had a running rant about ungrateful children -- it was one of the themes she came back to from time to time during my first two decades, though rarely targeting me specifically (as far as I know). She may have a point, but you might alternately say that she was 'protesting too much' (i.e., anticipating or reacting to criticism that she heard or felt).
I know how she generally reacts to criticism -- I react more or less the same way, and it's not welcoming. She would interpret even a minor criticism of her parenting as a charge that she failed in raising us.
Objectively, there may be reasons to believe that she failed: one child who died from what may or may not have been suicide, one child who refuses to speak to her, one child who is in her 40's and still takes money from them on a regular basis, and me...well, what can you say about a guy who can't seem to get a good job, or even reliably keep the shitty jobs that he can get? (I could go on and on about my own regrets and failures, my chronic neurosis and depression, but let's just charitably call me an aging slacker and move on).
So this blog is one of the few places that I go to express my "issues". I don't feel comfortable talking with my family, and I have few friends (you may say "none" and not be completely wrong). My wife is generally sympathetic, but she's still bitter about having lost both her parents before her mid-30's. She may also be a little extra critical about anything that takes my attention away from her; not exactly a recipe for objectivity. And again, there's the issue where I hate myself when I talk negatively about my parents, even to my wife.
Perhaps writing these feelings down will help me deal with them. Even if it doesn't, I really don't have much of an alternative except not to say anything, ever...
Mother: I'm glad that you've finally quit smoking. It must have been difficult after so many years. I don't know exactly why you finally decided to quit, or why you were so much more successful this time, but it must have been very important to you. It was certainly too difficult to stop when you were pregnant with us, or when we were born (myself, prematurely and with a hole in my heart), or when my brother and I developed asthma and required inhalers and injections...
I'm equally glad that the antidepressants are giving you some emotional relief. I don't know the details of your inner suffering, or whether it's more or less than it was when my siblings and I were still children. Who can say if medication would have helped you be a more stable, understanding, affectionate parent? Perhaps you would have felt selfish spending money on your own happiness when you had children to think about. I remember how you used to passionately argue in favor of nature versus nurture -- I'd imagine you believe that the mental problems that all of your children have come from the same biological source, rather than anything they experienced at home.
Father: I'm sorry to hear that you have a little too much time on your hands now that you've retired. I'm sure you'll fill it somehow; you always had projects that kept you busy when you weren't working. You worked long hours for many years for us; I really do appreciate the sacrifices that you made, just as I treasure the few times that we were able to spend together.
So this blog is one of the few places that I go to express my "issues". I don't feel comfortable talking with my family, and I have few friends (you may say "none" and not be completely wrong). My wife is generally sympathetic, but she's still bitter about having lost both her parents before her mid-30's. She may also be a little extra critical about anything that takes my attention away from her; not exactly a recipe for objectivity. And again, there's the issue where I hate myself when I talk negatively about my parents, even to my wife.
Perhaps writing these feelings down will help me deal with them. Even if it doesn't, I really don't have much of an alternative except not to say anything, ever...
Mother: I'm glad that you've finally quit smoking. It must have been difficult after so many years. I don't know exactly why you finally decided to quit, or why you were so much more successful this time, but it must have been very important to you. It was certainly too difficult to stop when you were pregnant with us, or when we were born (myself, prematurely and with a hole in my heart), or when my brother and I developed asthma and required inhalers and injections...
I'm equally glad that the antidepressants are giving you some emotional relief. I don't know the details of your inner suffering, or whether it's more or less than it was when my siblings and I were still children. Who can say if medication would have helped you be a more stable, understanding, affectionate parent? Perhaps you would have felt selfish spending money on your own happiness when you had children to think about. I remember how you used to passionately argue in favor of nature versus nurture -- I'd imagine you believe that the mental problems that all of your children have come from the same biological source, rather than anything they experienced at home.
Father: I'm sorry to hear that you have a little too much time on your hands now that you've retired. I'm sure you'll fill it somehow; you always had projects that kept you busy when you weren't working. You worked long hours for many years for us; I really do appreciate the sacrifices that you made, just as I treasure the few times that we were able to spend together.
The older I get, the more I realize how much like you I am: I experience those same fits of irritation bordering on rage, the subtle expressions of judgment and disappointment, the melancholy nostalgia for a time long before your family came about, and the need for solitude and time away from your loved ones. If it weren't for a handful of memories of times that we've spent together, I might not know that I've inherited so much of your personality.
Still, I love both of you...okay, it's a difficult love, somewhat forced and grudgingly given at times. Sometimes I see myself as having needed more love and affection than you were able to give, but I do understand. If I am as similar to both of you as I suspect, you have difficulty expressing your feelings in a way that the people you care about can recognize. Any time people like that have a relationship, there's bound to be "unresolved issues". Kinda makes me wonder what yours are...
And I have no doubt that you were dedicated to raising us as well as you could...for one thing, you reminded me of that dedication on a regular basis. Mother never hesitated to let me know that father worked hard for us (though it's no secret that he enjoyed going to work, and once or twice hinted that he appreciated the chance to get away from the aggravations at home). Mother embraced the role of motherhood almost to the level of an archetype, and one may be forgiven for thinking of the word "martyr". Sometimes I felt that you were too willing to play the role of mother, to "talk a good game"; the memories or results may not reflect this oft-expressed self-image.
Whatever the case, I really do have no doubt that the two of you truly wanted to us to grow up to be happy, healthy, and successful. Perhaps the cards were stacked a little too high against you. Perhaps all your children squandered and wasted their chances on their own, and it had nothing to do with the way we were raised.
Still, I love both of you...okay, it's a difficult love, somewhat forced and grudgingly given at times. Sometimes I see myself as having needed more love and affection than you were able to give, but I do understand. If I am as similar to both of you as I suspect, you have difficulty expressing your feelings in a way that the people you care about can recognize. Any time people like that have a relationship, there's bound to be "unresolved issues". Kinda makes me wonder what yours are...
And I have no doubt that you were dedicated to raising us as well as you could...for one thing, you reminded me of that dedication on a regular basis. Mother never hesitated to let me know that father worked hard for us (though it's no secret that he enjoyed going to work, and once or twice hinted that he appreciated the chance to get away from the aggravations at home). Mother embraced the role of motherhood almost to the level of an archetype, and one may be forgiven for thinking of the word "martyr". Sometimes I felt that you were too willing to play the role of mother, to "talk a good game"; the memories or results may not reflect this oft-expressed self-image.
Whatever the case, I really do have no doubt that the two of you truly wanted to us to grow up to be happy, healthy, and successful. Perhaps the cards were stacked a little too high against you. Perhaps all your children squandered and wasted their chances on their own, and it had nothing to do with the way we were raised.
Perhaps I talk a good game about taking responsibility for myself, but secretly exaggerate your shortcomings to explain my own poor performance at the game of life. It's really, really hard to tell for sure. When you do go (and believe me when I say that I sincerely hope it's later rather than sooner, and that it's a peaceful and quick process), I want you to be satisfied with your own performance at that game.
I want you to be as happy as possible at that time, and until then. It must feel terrible to consider that you may have been unsuccessful at raising your children. I'll never know that feeling, because I won't have any children -- partly because I never want them to feel the way that I feel (in general, and about their parents). Whether my peculiar malaise is hereditary or passed on through experience, any children I have would most likely suffer from it...and that's something that I could never wish on another person.
I'm sorry you didn't get to experience grandchildren, but maybe it's all for the best. After all, the world and your descendants haven't been getting along very well.
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