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oh, I'm still making art in the urban forest

Friday, August 31, 2012

It is only in watching my mother now, as she drifts slowly, steadily,and lately it seems more and more swiftly, into that tragic place we call Alzheimer's, that I feel all these levels of regret. That we weren't closer. Was that her or IS that ME? I don't know. My ex-husband, the father of my children, called me cold and lizard like and reptilian, but maybe that's why it didn't work out. Because I never knew real intimacy. He only said those things because I wanted a fair share of the work we'd done together.... but no matter. It's my mother I'm thinking of now. I don't know how to be close to the person who raised me but whom I was never close to. I have memories of the third grade, being in the warm bathtub and trying to let go of the bladder infection. That's the only warm memory I have. The only thing that feels like mother. Why is this? Her mind is going, it's on the verge of gone and I feel such shame. Why didn't I do more, think more, feel more, do more.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Obat Menurunkan Asam Lambung said...

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15/3/15 9:31 PM  
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15/3/15 9:32 PM  

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