Part II. In the wake of a Q-Adjacent Great Grand Mum’s death by Covid
In Part I of this meditation I made an outline of the circumstances that lead to being injected into processing the death of my estranged mother. In this second essay on the subject, I meditate upon her death, the impact on survivors, and particularly Pops.
The recap is that more than a decade of confrontational Christian conservatism produced a deep gulf between members of our family. The roots of the division go back to Jerry Falwell and the “Moral Majority” of the 1980’s. But really tension always existed. Lead by my mother, we fought over politics. The 2016 election cycle etched much of our differences in stone. Covid and the aftermath of the 2020 election and subsequent Q-adjacent insurrection turned our disagreements into iron. The death of our Matriarch who propelled our division, has begun some healing.
In parallel to the viciousness of my mothers views and behaviors , one of the extraordinary blessings to have witnessed in my lifetime has been Dad’s steadfastness. His example of self-sacrificial love feels like an incredible gift to me, personally. He has lived a heroic life not only as a multi-decorated Korean veteran and a family man, but as stalwart husband to Mom. He never, in my recollection, failed to respond – always giving whatever he had. He is a survivor and has also been traumatized by life’s circumstances — like all of us. There is no fault in his experience of living a cracked pot life, either. Dad had no one to rescue him but he was undeterred in the risks he took for us.
Having lived a thousand-odd miles away, a dull heart-ache anchored in the distance and disconnection is always with me. I’ve missed Mom for a long time because we could not cordially communicate in the last decade. And I feel guilty for being away. I miss Dad! I miss my hometown. A cousin wrote us and reminisced about our time together as children. Thanks for pointing out that nobody is getting any younger.
But younger ones have disappointed our generation. Grandkids and great grandchildren arrived on the scene to divide the spoils of Mom’s passing. My brothers and I opened the doors to her house for them. And more or less, stood back. It was like sharks feeding on the spoiled carcass of a whale. I can’t seem to forget that image. It will be a while, perhaps never that this uncle / granduncle can find nice things to think, let alone say about that avarice. Dad’s request was that nobody quarrel, that’s all. I don’t know if sparks flew, because I couldn’t watch.
2022 crept in with more hollowness. Not just because Mom is absent, and greedy Q-adjacent descendants pursued her estate… but because all of the other disconnections and isolation we experience recently. It’s like numbness; I seem to be almost paralyzed. Something tells me: I know that what I pour into the vacuum will be what fills me in the future. Despite what some members of my family by may think about the truth I’ve shared, I try to be mindful of good things. I hope you do too, Dad.
You’ve set a high bar, Pops. Our immediate family – each in their own way – has *mostly* conducted themselves with fantastic dignity in the aftermath of Mum’s passing. Despite embedded differences. God Bless you! What a credit to family you are! My heart goes out to Mom’s sister. And dear old Dad…
Let’s keep breathing in and out. Lord! Comfort us all.
Narrow Way Cafe 