Hurts That Last A Lifetime
Did I fall asleep again, or did I see Mother walk into the room? More importantly, did she see me see her? She stood in the doorway and looked at my brother. My heart leapt up. Because I was the only one awake, she was all mine.
She walked to him, sat on the edge of his bed and woke him by kissing him on the neck and tickling him. I could almost feel his delight as he giggled and kicked.
I closed my eyes. I like to do that when I'm excited. In eager anticipation I wriggled even deeper into my warm cubbyhole, knowing that Mother would soon come to me. I had to pretend to be asleep so she could surprise me in the same way.
She rose. She came toward me, but went past me to my sister's bed. There I heard the same sounds as before. I felt like a balloon that had been pricked by a pin, but my anticipation soon built again.
She knew what an emotional child I was. She knew how I probably enjoyed this sort of thing more than the others did. She knew how I savored things, and she was letting the excitement build up for me. She was saving me until last.
I heard her again and knew that she was coming back to my bed. She was beside me.
I squeezed my eyes shut tight, all tense with readiness. She was going to kiss me, too.
Time. Was it a thousand seconds or just a couple that passed as I waited? I looked up as she left the room. Time. I had all the time in the world, and I could wait just that long for her to come back. I waited...but alas, she didn't return.
A knot tied in my stomach that has never come undone. Maybe it still hurts because I never understood why she did it. If only I had not let her die without asking her why. Knowing that it was deliberate was the part that hurt the most.
Mother made many poor decisions in her youth and never got over the results. She spent her short life trying to catch up...to catch happiness. The unfinished business in her own life made her incapable of meeting the needs of her own children. She would never have hurt me on purpose had she not been hurting herself.
I understand all too well how I hurt others when I am hurting. I have forgiven Mother and know that right now in heaven she is glad that I have moved on.
An 18-year-old college student who wrote it for a class assignment gave this essay to me. The pain of rejection was still sharp, even after the 11 years that had elapsed. And contrary to the little rhyme about sticks and stones, words and actions can cause far deeper hurts...hurts deep enough to last a lifetime.
Copyright 1999 James McAlister
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