Published: Nov 17, 2020
When Her Father Died
When her father died, I did not process it. I did not help her process it. I was on the verge of a breakdown myself and I kept thinking of my mother's history; what that likely meant for me. I could not do that in front of her. The weakness in our minds carried down through our genes, generation to generation through the women was something I was afraid of. My fear kept me from facing it, and I feel, no I am certain, that forced her toward it. We should have mourned him. We should have gone to his grave over and over and dealt with his leaving little by little. How can I go back?
I can't, can I, go back I mean. There were all these signs along the way that I just ignored. I had hoped she would grow out of it, as the saying goes. But she was growing into it instead. And I'm left blaming myself. What will that do to me; will I become just like her, like my mother, needing some kind of treatment to bring me back to society?