I feel like I've told this story here before, but in my 18.3 second search of previous posts, I couldn't find it. Seems a bit bass-ackward that I'd spend more time re-typing than searching, but that's how I roll.
So last year, a week after Amanda's memorial service, my mom had her annual Easter party. She does it up pretty big, with Easter egg hunts, tractor rides, horse rides, play-fishing, and other random "only at the farm" events. It was fun for us in '08, and was the last event we did as a family with Alastair before the hospitalizations began.
I told her we'd try to make it, but after mom's arm-clenching at the service (she wouldn't let me out of her sight for almost an hour after the service was over) I just didn't want to deal with her. So we went to the Monument Avenue Easter Parade instead. It's fun and decidedly less stressful.
See, mom tends to make everything about her. Last summer--oh goodness, I guess now I mean summer-before-last--when she came to visit Amanda in the hospital, my dad was there. Mom didn't feel like she got the personal attention SHE deserved, so she left. The day after Amanda died, I called to share the bad news, and she boo-hoo-hooed for several minutes on end about how much this affected HER. How upsetting it was to HER. Then she showed up at the airport after being expressly asked not to, and made me drive her weepy self all around the airport parking lot because "in her sorrow" she'd forgotten where she parked.
And did I mention she was high at the service? She's been high for every service we've both attended for, well, probably all of my life. She was high at her dad's, high at her mom's.
Anyway, I didn't want to deal with her fruitcakery on Easter. BFD, get over it.
So when we got back from the parade, I called to apologize for not coming. I got a 20-minute lecture on how disappointing it was that we abandoned her on her biggest day of the year. Mind you, Amanda had been dead for less than 3 weeks. Then she hit me with the big 'un: "You know, you're lucky Amanda died so you'll never have to know the pain of divorce."
We haven't spoken since. Now, that's not exactly abnormal for our "relationship". Several times we've let almost a year pass without communication, but I feel no desire to ever speak to her again. Every time we speak, it's poison to my soul.
Amanda and I had long-since agreed (actually before Alastair's birth) that mom would never have unsupervised time with Alastair. Her lies are so thick and told with such sincerity that they were hard for me to unravel--I will not have that pain inflicted upon my son. In the wake of such a charming encounter, I see no reason for her to ever be allowed to speak to him. Supervised or not, her presence is toxic.
I resent my mother.