After Mom died, my partner was called away to take care of his own parents. I almost immediately got COVID-19, which has dragged on for over a month. I've been grieving my mom's passing by doing little projects around the house (when I have the energy), but mostly I watch television from my youth.
First, I turned to Roseanne. I grew up in a working-class family, and my biological parents were the working poor. There was something comforting about watching select episodes. I know Roseanne Barr said some horrible things, and she has become politically unhinged, but I choose to remember her for the headstrong woman who used to hit her husband with a frying pan for laughs. In some ways, my mom was like Roseanne from the '90s. She was a hard-working boomer who worked her fingers to the bone taking care of her daughter and taking in two homeless kids. Something about re-watching Roseanne helped me remember my mom for the best parts of her unique being.
I then moved on to Star Trek Voyager. I grew up on Next Generation, but I have gravitated to Voyager more as I get older. In this time of grieving the loss of the matriarch of my family, Janeway provides some comfort. She's always headstrong and tough, while also being warm and feminine when required. I also see my mom in her character as well.
I then watched the Vicar of Dibley. The lead character is played by Dawn French, and is a newly ordained female vicar. The show takes place shortly after the Church of England started to ordain women. To me, Geraldine Granger represents a woman who broke through a glass ceiling while endearing the stodgy, conservative men around her with a quick wit and a hilarious disposition. My mom broke through many glass ceilings in her life. She faced many challenges, yet she always found a way to smile.
At the moment I'm re-watching Queer As Folk. It will come as no surprise to learn that I also found a character in this show that reminds me of my mom. Two of them in fact. The first is Michael's mom, Debbie. She's a headstrong, bossy, charming woman who always works hard and smiles. That's where the similarities end though. Debbie is a proud PFLAG mom, whereas my mom took many years to accept that I'm actually gay, and not just "being a pervert". She knew gay men, and she accepted them, even if she didn't exactly understand. She just didn't accept that SHE had raised a gay boy. The other character that reminded me somewhat of mom was Justin's mother, Jennifer. She's a fairly conservative housewife who discovers her son is gay, and struggles to understand and accept her son. She ultimately comes to accept her gay son, and it happens fairly quickly in narrative terms in the show. My mom took a lot longer. It wasn't until I brought a doctor home that my mom really started to accept me as her gay son. I still think she harbored some hesitations to the end, but she was too much of a lady to say anything.
Part of my grieving has had to do with inequality in how the inheritance will work. I was told by my step-father and my adopted sister that my mom wanted to cut me out of the inheritance entirely, but that an attorney suggested that might lead to a legal struggle that would cause problems. So, as my adopted sister and step-father narrate it, my mom agreed to give me 20%, while her daughter got 40%, and my step-father's daughter got the remaining 40%. There was a will written up in 2001, which laid all this out, but my mom never signed it. This is all hearsay, as I have not seen the will. If this is true, 2001 represented the low point of my relationship with my mom. In 2003, I met my partner, and things started looking up. By 2006, when we moved to Atlanta for my partner's residency, my relationship with mom was far better than her relationship with her biological daughter.
It hurts that they took a snapshot of the comparative relationships at the time when my stock was lowest with mom, and used that to give me an unequal share.
In some ways I feel bad for feeling angry about the unequal treatment. From my adopted-sister's perspective, it should have all been hers. She was always told the house was hers, and mom even went as far as putting my sister's name on the title of the house. Of course, after she got married, she wanted to put her new husband's name on the title, and my sister INSISTED on being paid a large sum of money to sign off on the change. In order to pay, mom cashed out her 401(k) retirement fund.
From my step-father's perspective, it should have been split evenly between his daughter and mom's daughter. He and I never had a good relationship. It was only in caring for mom that we really started to forgive and forget some of the things that happened shortly after they got married.
I'm ok. At the moment, I'm unemployed. I have my small side-gigs that keep me afloat, except for this damned virus keeping me from working for over a month! I still sometimes feel a pang of grief when I overhear a proud mother praising her son. I tear up a bit thinking how I'll never again hear her voice and see her eyes light up when she looks at me and says "that's my boy!".
I miss you mom. It was hard watching them put the veil on you and close your casket. It's hard knowing you're laying there in the cold ground for eternity.
At least I took the time to go see her as she was fading at the end. I held her hand and she opened her eyes and looked at me. She couldn't talk, but she smiled a bit and squeezed my hand before closing her eyes. I spent a few more minutes listening to her breathe. I kissed her on the cheek, told her I love her, and I left. I knew that was the last time I'd see her again. I'm so grateful to have spent that time with her. I miss her, but I'm also happy she isn't suffering anymore. I knew being locked in that memory care was hard for her. Still, as she always did, she made friends with other residents, and could still light up the room with her smile.
She did the best she could. She took in 2 homeless kids and gave us a home. Any mistakes she made in her future parenting were nothing compared to the kindness she showed with that first act of selfless kindness.
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