“A Mother’s Apology”

Every morning the alarm would go off between five or six depending on sports schedules. I’d hear Mom rustling around the house in her robe and slippers, getting ready to wake my sister and I for school. It wasn’t an easy task as I never was one to willingly rise to the sun during those years. I had built a reputation in my family and I was almost convinced that they drew straws to determine who was to get me up. There was a good chance someone was gonna end up kicked, hit, or maybe even bit for disturbing my teenage slumber.

Since I was the oldest of us three children, two years older than my sister and five years up on my brother, I was responsible )under duress), for driving Rachelle to school with me. At times, I really thought it annoying and inconvenient, but Mom’s logic was sound; we attended the same school my junior year. I would give anything to drive her to school one last time.

Rachelle and I both eventually moved on to college, but things changed quickly and dramatically for my sister. We found out she had lupus and it had manifested further causing pulmonary hypertension. She passed away in 2007. I was living in Bay City at the time, and working on a master’s degree while raising two boys of my own. The news, though expected, was absolutely difficult to process.

Rachelle had entered the hospital towards the end of her life. My mom and dad desperately bent over backwards, traveling, waiting in doctors’ offices, managing medications, fighting insurances who didn’t want to cover treatment at times, and asking almost anyone in the medical field what could be done. They truly tried everything to no avail. I could often hear the exhaustion when chatting with mom those evenings.

Rachelle and I talked several times in those last few weeks. I could hear the shift in her voice. She was tired of the fight. I knew and sensed she was preparing to leave us. I decided to call mom and beg her to fly me out to say goodbye in person. We ended up in an argument and I slammed the phone down on her by throwing it. Used to be when you slammed a phone down, the other individual’s ear was irritated for the next several minutes. Since cell phones arrived, slamming phones no longer gives anyone the same satisfaction.

I was furious with Mom. I felt she was somehow trying to get back at me for all of the times I ran away, lied, manipulated, stole, and defied authority at high school or home, and made her life miserable. I had not considered in that moment, her denying me was a result of being in her own denial. My sister was dying, Mom was terrified, and did not want to admit Rachelle was leaving us. If I had applied my psychology lessons, I would have picked up on it. I was too close to the situation even though we were three states apart.

About a week later, while Rachelle was stuck in a hospital bed and not making any improvements to be released, Mom called. I answered the phone reluctantly with a gnarly pit in my stomach that Rachelle was already gone. Mom barely making sense to me through uncontrollable heaves, handed the phone to her, and we said our goodbyes.

“I love you so very much Rachelle, I’m so sorry I can’t be there”. The dam broke and down poured the tears. “I promise I’ll catch you on the flip-side!” They were my last words with my sister.

Mom and Dad sent me a ticket to California so I could attend Rachelle’s funeral. It was extremely tense for all of us. Trying to figure out food and flower arrangements as well as preparation for the viewing, had all of us on edge. Mom asked me to ride with her to get a few things accomplished. I was not prepared for what happened next.

Mom was apparently anxious. She was talking more with her hands than was the norm. I could tell something was picking at her mind, but what, I couldn’t guess. The next thing I knew, Mom broke down. I had made her cry many times over the years, but this was not of my doing. This time, I was at a loss for words.

“Charleen, I am sorry Daddy and I didn’t bring you out when you asked. Can you ever forgive me?” She was trying to keep her eyes on the road through streaming, unabated tears. Her shoulders shuddered up and down with what seemed an expectation of defeat.

I was quiet for a moment. She had just brought up a huge contention that I was quietly and happily dwelling on and she was now asking me for my forgiveness? Pursing my lips, that previous argument begging mom to see Rachelle, was replaying itself repeatedly in my head.

I had never heard my mom apologize in such a fashion. Usually they were attached to some liquidic sarcasm as a result of my defiance and disruption and her exasperation. “I’m soooorrry Charleen but the answer is NO!”, were the apologies I was familiar with. And with good reason; but this was different. We weren’t arguing or fighting actively, I hadn’t been difficult on this trip and now was somewhat at a loss.

I began to cry as well. All of the pent up stress and emotions poured out. I cried for many more reasons than the loss of my sister in that moment. I cried because I didn’t know what to say to Mom. I cried because of all the things I had done in the past that made things difficult for her. I cried for the lost chances I should have taken. I cried for being the person that I was, often filled with anger and resentment.

We had come to a stop light. I looked over at this heartbroken, frail, woman whose eyes now wet, further showed the darkening circles underneath from exhaustion and lack of sleep. Mom was always so full of life! This was not the woman who had raised me with fire and set determination. She had been broken by the loss of her daughter and in that moment I understood she was scared to lose another.

At one point in our relationship, in my younger arrogance, I probably would not have cared or even noticed what she was displaying and risking now. I would have been too busy and wrapped in myself to consider my mom was actually human too. Mom was now looking back at me, I could tell she was serious and expecting a response. I didn’t really understand the concept of humility until I heard, in that moment, the apology escape from her mouth.

My mom was showing me a different side of her that I was unfamiliar with, a side that I had suppressed and ignored in myself. She had just given me permission for all of my errors and mistakes and past choices I had made, to become forgivable. That very apology taught me both humility and forgiveness; the latter coming later.

I did not respond initially. She looked ahead as the light changed green and defeatedly, she pressed on the gas pedal moving us forward. I considered her words carefully. Me forgiving Mom for anything, much less her seriously asking for it, was escaping me. I was the one that was always supposed to apologize in my mind. Mom looked, older, tired, and I knew she was hurting even worse than I could imagine. Though I had lost my sister, she had lost her child. No parent should ever have to endure such suffering.

Through the welled-up bluriness now inhibiting my vision (glad I wasn’t driving), I turned to Mom and lied, and nodded my head in acquiescence and forgiveness. I could not hurt her further, no matter how angry I had been over our past.

Finally speaking, I told her I understood and there was no need for me to forgive anything. It’s probably the only lie I have felt both good and terrible for delivering. Mom sobbed a bit more. I think mostly for Rachelle, as it should have been. I could now see relief settling her face and body-language.

We finished running our errands and upon returning home, mom and I hugged in a much needed embrace. More tears poured from her onto my shoulder. A few minutes later, with crying subsiding, we went into the house. We didn’t speak any further about that incident.

The next day was Rachelle’s funeral. Flowers and foods rolled into our house in abundance from various individuals, many who I didn’t even know. In a somber silence, we ignored everything that had arrived, subconsciously finding places to put it while thoughts roamed to Rachelle. Once everything was momentarily put away, we piled into the same car. In silence, we headed to the viewing. We were all lost in our own separate thoughts.

There was no laughter, no smiles, none of the wonderful things my sister so joyously embraced when alive. Mom walked up to the casket first; followed by Dad coming up to hold Mom’s shoulders. He noticed and felt her devistation and they comforted each other. Mom was mumbling apologies through tears and heavy heaves of anguish that they couldn’t do more for their daughter. Mom and Dad supported each other in their loss, and I realized how very much they loved each other.

Circumstances such as a loss of a child can destroy a marriage. My parents taught me then that “for better or worse, in sickness and in health” meant more than just the marriage; but included the children brought up in that marriage. A family relies on each other and doesn’t give up, even in the worst of conditions. Mom and Dad never gave up on us children.

It was time for me to return home to Texas, and continue my daily responsibilities. I was working as a drug counselor, and the next morning, had a group of girls to prepare for and teach. Part of that lesson I reviewed in the book included acceptance. The other part dealt with forgiveness. I rolled my eyes knowing the world was speaking to me. As I met and worked with those gals that morning, I quietly began correlating in my own mind, the lesson in relationship to Mom.

I did need to work on forgiving her. I needed to work on understanding her better. I needed, for my own sake, to let that anger go. Why was I holding on to it? What was my motivation? I needed to risk letting her be a part of my life.

I became ruthlessly honest with myself. My anger stemmed from my fear I would never see my sister again. My anger resulted from my fears of not being in control. My anger was keeping me from moving forward in my own life. My anger wasn’t hurting Mom, as I had already lied to her. In the bigger picture, my anger and resentment was only hurting me and my opportunities for personal growth.

Mom called me later in the week. We talked through the strained tension. For awhile it was uncomfortable as I wasn’t being fully honest, and we were both hurting over the loss of a family member. We were trying to deal with it in our own ways. I decided to open up and let it pour. “I know you didn’t mean it, I do forgive you, but I still hurt that I didn’t get to see her! You know every last dime I have goes to family and school and I begged you for help!” The words cut through the tension.

My forgiveness this time was sincere, but now attached to the pain and I wielded both at her in a double edged-sword. I think somewhere deep down, I was hoping for a fight. It was more comfortable than this confrontation and honesty. A fight would feel better than the hurt of losing my sister. Mom took that verbal blade I had slung and accepted it with grace. Another lesson that would prepare me later for my own children. There was no fight, she listened to me rant, and simply responded, “I am so very sorry, I apologize.” She did not retaliate with commentaries on my behavior this time. Nor did she pick up the gauntlet to engage the fight. She humbled herself, and I was scared.

I believe I also wanted what I perceived as a little normalcy. I was used to fighting with Mom. It was how we usually communicated. Ironically I wanted that back because it was somehow more safe, familiar, and comfortable than this mom I was talking with now. This newly-shared humility was unknown territory and I didn’t know how to respond. Stuttering momentarily, I told her I loved her and hung up the phone.

We continued to talk over the phone weekly. Somehow the honesty I had finally found had allowed us to begin developing a new and different type of relationship. As a result of Rachelle’s death, Mom was not just my mother anymore, she was now, unexpectedly, becoming my friend.

We began talking, I mean, REAL discussions. Conversations were no longer lectures on how I was messing up, or what I should or should not do with my life. Mom was listening, learning, and sharing in my choices and I was doing the same! I wanted to learn who my mom really and also share in her life!

Our phone calls became more frequent. I started calling her every couple of days to share what was happening with my family. I started being honest with her about everything; including how difficult my own marriage had become, and how I often felt at a loss in raising my children.

During one of our now daily phonecall exchanges, I was complaining to her how my oldest was making things exceptionally difficult. He would never listen, did what he wanted, and was utterly defiant at every turn. In this most recent incident, I had been yelling at him because he refused to pick up his room and I was livid. Somehow, during that conversation with mom, I was reminded of her not listening to me, and me begging to see Rachelle one last time. Mom had not listened to me then, and I was yelling and not listening to my son now.

Mom started breaking the negative habits with me upon Rachelle’s death. It was time for me to honor my sister as well, and help Mom break the destructive pattern that had been set in motion so many years ago. Rachelle had changed both of us, giving us both chances to improve our relationships with our children, and each other.

I entered my son’s bedroom and sat on the floor next to him. “Hey buddy, I was wrong. I apologize that I yelled and chose not to listen.” There were no excuses or justifications attached. His blue eyes flashed up at me, and he leaned forward wrapping arms around my neck and said he was sorry too. I learned he was responsive to my negativity and I was teaching him to behave with defiance. I was not communicating and talking with him, I was demanding compliance and to be almost inhumanly perfect; to follow every direction without question. Who does that?

His innocent arms wrapping around me still, I began to cry for Rachelle, the years of struggles with Mom, and so desperately wanting a healthy relationship with my own boys. We talked for the next hour as we cleaned up the room together, and our relationship began to change for the better.

It’s not easy to admit with your children when you have errored. At least it initially was not easy for me. I had to practice and still do! I never wanted my children to see me in a “bad light”. In my distorted thinking, to admit I was wrong was going to make me less of a parent in their eyes when in all reality the opposite was true. Surprisingly, Mom later in life, was still teaching me lessons I could pass on to my children.

Mom that year, taught me how to truly be accountable. She taught me to have ownership over my actions and decion-making with my children, not just my peers and other associates. She taught me how to forgive. Mom taught me that as a parent, when I mess up, it is healthy to own my mistakes with my children. Mom taught me ownership of my errors was not always going to be easy. Mom taught me how to be more humble. Mom taught me how to better love others with more compassion, tolerance, and understanding. Mom taught me listening, positive communication and honesty were the key elements to sharing that love. And she taught me to never give up on anything I hold precious. Mom is an AMAZING woman! I am grateful to have her in my life.