Using A Molehill To Destroy A Mountain

Beverly Nembhard my eighty-one years old case would often cry when thinking and talking about her five children. Inclusive of four boys and one girl. She missed her only daughter, Lisa, a lot. Who doesn’t visit, call, or speak to her mother.

As a mother with her own issues with her adult daughters, it pains my heart to see any form of cruelty to humans. Especially, a daughter, to her mother.

Bev, as I called her was a sweetheart with the most beautiful heart. We hit it off on the first day and became friends.

From one mother to another, I wanted to strangle her daughter for being so cruel.

When I read the letters she wrote to her mom, I became confused.

She thanked her mother for being the best mother. For staying with her the first day of pre-school when she was afraid, and staying with her every day for the first two weeks until she adjusted and made friends. For trips to the dentist, doctors, and everywhere she was afraid of going. For going through puberty with her. For being her doctor, nurse, lawyer, therapist, friend, etc. when she needs one.

For supporting her in all her endeavors, even when she didn’t agree with her. For teaching her to cook and be strong and independent. For taking her to baseball and basketball practice, and to the mall and movies. For allowing her to be herself without judgment.

For being there for her after the birth of all her three children. For being the best mother and grandmother. The list goes on and I envied Beverly because her daughter remembers things my daughters forgot.

Lisa Nembhard-Fishetti remembers things Beverly did with her and for her, that Beverly forgot.

My confusion demanded to know, as I watched tears flowing as she examined pictures of her only daughter.

“She married an Italian guy Francis Fishetti, that I didn’t like, but I remained silent,” Beverly explained. “I don’t know, but there was something about him that ignited flames deep inside of me. But she loves him and I wasn’t about to spoil it for her.”

“Many mothers don’t like their daughter’s boyfriend, but said nothing,” I said. “Plus, objecting would probably push her further into him,” I told from experience.

She nods and goes on, “She had a daughter first. He was disappointed.”

“Most males want a son,” I said.

“But he should be grateful for a healthy baby,” Beverly vents.

“True.”

“He didn’t hide his disappointment when the second child turned out to be a girl. His attitude hurt my child. I wanted to punch him in the gut. But my husband stopped me.”

“Damn!”

“Against her doctor’s orders and at a risk to her health and life, she went back a third time and gave him his son. Five years later he cheated on her and they divorced.”

“What!” cascaded past my brain and shot out of my thoughts. “She could have died the third time and he got what he wanted and still destroyed his marriage?”

“Can you believe it?”

“So why is she not talking to you?” I was getting angrier and needed to calm down.

“After the divorce, I kinda told her I really didn’t like him from the first day she bought him home.”

Unconsciously, my head shook from left to right more than once, “she is mad at you for what?”

“Risking her life to give him a son and he still cheated on her, hurts. But she found out that he had a son with the female while she was pregnant with their son.”

“Damn!” cascaded out again. “So, what have that got to do with you?”

“She said,” and Beverly paused to process the painful words her daughter used to inject so much pain on her mother, “You knew he was a monster and you allowed me to marry him and have him destroy my life. I could have died giving birth to your grandson!”

“Rewind and come again!” slid past my brain. I swear. It took a while for me to process what she just said. “Wait a minute, she is blaming you for not stopping her from marrying a guy she loves?”

“Makes no sense, right?” she said.

“No, it doesn’t,” I said nodding. “So, she is using a molehill to destroy a mountain!” Again, slid past my brain and out of my mouth.

Beverly smiled looking at me strangely.

“For all the good you did, according to her letters, she is using blame to destroy the one thing she thought you did badly to destroy all of the other good things you did right,” I explained further.

“One wrong decision I made, and it destroyed all of the good things I did,” Beverly said in regret.

“What mistake?” I almost shouted. “You didn’t make any mistake. Children don’t want parents telling them who to love, live with, or marry. Especially if they are adults.”

“Damn, you are right,” Beverly said nodding. “She was an adult and had a responsibility to make her own decisions.”

She grabbed the phone and dialed Lisa’s number then said after putting her on speaker, “Blame is lighter when shared. And if you continue to blame me and don’t take responsibility for your decision, you will never get over the failure of your marriage. Francis has moved on and is happy with his girlfriend. So should you! You owe it to yourself and the children to move on. That’s the only way you will find happiness again.”

She gave it to her mother in words I can’t write.

“So, you will continue to use a molehill to destroy the mountain of good intentions, love and kindness I have given and shared with you all of our lives?”

She hangs up.

All of us have humans who use a molehill to destroy the mountains of kindness, love, patience, understanding, and all the other positive and good intentions that we add to their lives in mountains. How can you forget all of the good and compare it to one bad and wreck a good relationship?

Parenting isn’t easy. Our children must make mistakes to learn life lessons. If they don’t learn from their mistakes, they will be repeated along with the pain and possible destruction it attracts.

Don’t use a molehill of bad decisions to destroy a mountain of good intentions! Annelise Lords

Thank you for reading this piece. I hope you enjoy it.