I grew up with a mother that was not only abusive and controlling, but beyond racist. She hated people of color and was very outspoken and passionate about letting everyone know, but never about the reason why.
I guess our saving grace was that she also hated her own children with the same passion and never missed an opportunity to let us know that our very existence was the reason why she did not have nice clothes, a nice house, vacations and all else that reminded her of what she hated about her life.
My father, however, was the opposite; quiet, gentle, loved his kids and kept the peace by doing what he was told and when. He never dared to go up against her, even in our defense, and I was never allowed to have any kind of close or interactive relationship with him. Fifty something years later and shortly before his death, he totally surprised me one day when he apologized to me for not being the father I needed him to be, that we all needed him to be, and how he saw that it had seriously impacted my life. Even so, he was never racist.
Through the years, I would see other displays of my mother’s hatred, one being at her own father’s funeral, where she entertained everyone by laughing and proclaiming that she was glad he was finally dead…. Hmmm
While he was alive, she would send all of her children off with “grandpa” every chance she got and I never saw him being an issue. I also witnessed, time and time again, how she lied like a champ and never held herself accountable and when confronted about bad behaviour or my brother Michael, she would always blame someone else, mostly my father and then me. I guess him and I could have bonded over that. But those lies remained intact for a very long time because nothing was ever allowed to be discussed, nothing spoken and my father never said one word. Nothing. Ever.
Like anything else that is kept “quiet”, under the surface, forbidden to come out, the lies prevail and the truth is never known. But in those circumstances, God will continue to intervene until it is commanded and supported that truth finally does come out, and come out in a very big way, no matter how difficult it is to hear. For us, it was my older sister and I, in our forties, ambushing them both with the lure of an afternoon lunch and waging a full on grande inquisition into every single lie, betrayal, assault and abuse that was our life. All of the dialogue and questions we were never allowed to have. And still my mother lied to save her own skin, only this time, my father was present and spoke, and spoke up and called her out. on her lies and blame of him. And finally, we heard the truth.
Sometimes when you are thrown into a sinking boat where no one thinks you are worth saving, you find much value and comfort with those who are in the same boat with you. I am so thankful to my mother and God, who taught me everything I never wanted to be and behave like. I am so very thankful for each and every one of you that have been or are now in my boat, who have so colorfully shared and honored me with your lives, your fears, your hopes and your beliefs, your religions, your countries, your struggles and your pain. And for all of the conversations we have shared and continue to share so that there is always truth that holds us together. There is no other boat I would have rather been in.
So who is in your boat?
