Rows Red

Family, as we all know, can be complicated. I didn’t always have the same level of awesomeness with my parents that I do now, especially my mom. I count my lucky stars that she and I have been able to come to a place of comfort, even if getting there was hard. I think we both appreciate just how far we’ve come. 

I like to make things for my loved ones, especially when I know how much they appreciate my work. I don’t need anything more than the smile that lights up their faces when they open that package, it’s priceless and worth more than words. There’s a joy in that, and I think all crafters who create for friends and family know exactly what I’m talking about. Mom has been the recipient of many a handknit gift, and I know she loves each and every one. 

Mom visited with me yesterday before we joined friends in Albany for a great dinner. She needed help with her knitting loom project, and it was a nice afternoon. We worked together, went through some acrylic yarn I was giving her from my backroom stash, and during that time it came up that she wanted to know if I would make a shawl for my grandmother. Not a fine lace shawl, just a worsted weight acrylic comfort shawl to keep her warm now that she’s gone to live in a nursing home in Puerto Rico. I was taken aback. 

I refer to my grandmother, when speaking to my mom, as “your mom” or if I have to (when speaking to others) as “my grandmother”. Steve’s grandmothers I call Grandma Pat and Dot. The distinction is love. Without airing dirty laundry, my mother’s mother is a pretty awful person. She routinely thinks it’s ok to insult, hurt and make my mom cry. And no, it’s not dementia, she’s been doing it her entire life. To hurt my mom she incited my extended family to boycott my wedding. Yes, she really did that. 

This holiday season was horrible on my mom and dad as they went down to PR to try and get her mother the care and home she needed. Nothing but abuse was heaped on them the entire time. It was emotionally draining and painful for my mom, especially. I’m so different from her, I have never had these automatic emotional roots and ties. My love is earned through mutual respect and kindness, not by blood or birth.  I understand trying to “do the right thing”, but also seeking her love and approval baffles me. 

So, for my mom to ask this of me really did blow my mind. “You want me to what?”, I asked.  Mom clarified, “Something to keep her warm, she’s always cold. Would you do that?” I stood and stared. Mom thinks it’s her duty to love her mother. I think she’s a better person than I. This presents an ethical question for me. To knit or crochet something for a woman who has emotionally tortured someone I love, how could I do that? Even sick and old, she has her family dancing to a horrible tune and it won’t stop till she’s gone. How could I create something that would take many hours and not work in my righteous anger? As a Pagan, this is a very serious question. It would be like wrapping her in a spiritual time bomb.  

It took me only a moment of my mom looking up at me with hope in her eyes to know what my answer was, and it wasn’t what she expected. 

“I’m not going to do it for her mom. I’ll do it for you.”

And in that moment, we understood each other. 

Mood: Introspective
Listening To: The Cure – Open

Tags: life, Seriously