When Your Love is for Someone Else

Prompt: Write a story in which grief shows itself in an unexpected way or becomes a tangible object.

When Your Love is for Someone Else

“Nothing I say or do seems to help,” I said to my therapist.  “I am at my wit’s end. Patty’s drowning in her grief and nothing can rescue her from the tidal wave of despair that has grabbed ahold of her.  It grieves me to see my daughter spiraling out of control. My daughter’s grief has changed into bitter hatred for me! I know she was so close to her Nana.  Patty and my mom seemed to have had a unique bond. But I loved my mother too.” 

“Rose, are you distressed that you did not have a bond with your mother like Patty?”  the therapist inquired as she jotted down more notes.

“Well, of course. Nana always seemed to be there for Patty when I was not,” I tearfully said. Patty loved Nana because she let Patty do the things that made her happy as well as those I did not approve of or like.”

 I lamented, “With Patty’s father long out of the picture, I struggle to make ends meet for the three of us. I have little time for her because I always have to work.”

“After my mother’s funeral I gave Patty a keepsake from her Nana. It was a necklace she would wear on special occasions. It wasn’t cheap. I could have fetched enough money to pay for rent, food and have some left over for me to do a night or two out on the town.”

The therapist said, “So what was Patty’s reaction to the necklace?”

“Oh, at first, she liked it, but then a day later she was back to her mopey, self-centered self. I told her in a loving way, I thought, to get a job. You can’t go around whining and being inconsolable all your life. Nana is gone. And I am still here. We need each other. I suppose getting a job didn’t sit well with her after I said it.”

I continued on. “She was outright hostile to me. She cursed calling me a self-centered bitch. How could she say it to me, her very own mother?  How dare she speak to me like that! She is seventeen and still living in my house. Rent-free!”

The therapist interrupted. “Rose, the two of you are still experiencing the grieving process, but at different stages and intensities. You have common ground which is the love and loss of your mother. Continue to find something from your memories of your mom and Patty’s Nana that can draw you together. There will be some memory, thing or moment that will bring you together to move past your extreme hurt and anxiety. Try to discover it for the both of you.”

There was a pause and I wiped the tears off my face.

“Our session today has ended, and we can follow up when I return to the free clinic in two weeks. Keep working the grieving process as well as your drug program.”

It was after midnight when Patty came home from a night out. I was waiting for her in the living room. She fumbled with her keys, blurting out a suppressed laugh at her clumsiness. I could smell the booze on her breath a mile away. She was gussied up with heavy makeup and she had on a low fitting blouse revealing her hideous tattoos across her arms and chest. She also wore a very short, tight-fitting skirt. Her attire and tattoos were appalling to me.

“Hello Patty.”

“Oops. Caught with my hand in the cookie jar.   What are you doing here anyway? I thought you would have been out with many of your boyfriends. Apparently, they are dropping like flies.” Patty chuckled at her disrespectful sarcasm.

I started to fume with anger, but calmly said, “I think we need to have a discussion tomorrow when you get some rest. The reality of sobriety can be scary. Trust me I know.”

Patty snapped a parting remark. “Nana would have danced the night away with me if she were here. You only think of yourself, bitch.”

A sinking feeling developed inside me as I turned out the lights heading for bed. Tomorrow could be a turning point in our relationship. I hoped for mutual love and respect. I feared, however, it would be one of contempt and mistrust.

I awoke before my daughter. I thought the smell of hot coffee and a breakfast of eggs and bacon would entice her to wake up. I had lots of juice for her and aspirin for her throbbing head. The dreary, pelting rain outside hopefully would not be indicative of Patty’s mood. At least one positive thing was happening. She awoke on her own power but was still dressed in her same blouse and skirt she wore last night. I noticed she shuffled across the kitchen floor in the bunny slippers her Nana had given her one Easter.

“Good morning, Patty. How are you feeling?

“How do you think I’m feeling,” she said as she sat at the kitchen table holding her head in her hands. “I think I am going to die. My head is pounding like the drums at the nightclub.”

“Take some juice and here are some aspirin and some B vitamins. A cup of dark coffee will help too.”

Patty gulped down the juice and pills. She sipped some of the coffee. “Don’t you have to be at work today? Where is your night buddy? Did he leave early?” she said contentiously.”

I held my anger inside glossing over her accusation. "Patty, we really need to talk about the two of us. I took the day off to spend some time with you.”

“Mother, I have nothing to say to you! Stop interfering in my life. I have things I want to do today. I need to borrow the car. Please can I have the keys.”

I raised my eyebrows and firmly said, “I’ll make a deal with you.”

Patty instantly interrupted me. “This isn’t a game show, Mother! I need to do things. I don’t need you to babysit me or lecture me on how to live my life.”

“Ok, ok I understand. That’s not my intention. I want to talk about your Nana, my Mom.”

Patty had a puzzled look on face. 

“Mother, I know who Nana is. What’s there to talk about? She’s dead. Gone. And she left me with the likes of you. Insensitive, aloof and selfish.”

Tears welled up in my eyes.

“I know. I won’t argue that. For those times I am deeply sorry.  I know I have not been an endearing mother to you. Nana knew how to connect with you.  I just don’t know how to make that connection. I need you to show me. Tell me how I can cross that bridge into your heart without compromising my duties as a mom.”

Patty looked at me with bleary eyes. 

“Give me the car keys and let me go.”

Sternly I responded, “You are not living up to your end of the bargain. You are not discussing our relationship. All you want is out! Help me to help you. Help me reach into your heart. What makes you so angry with me?”

“Just let me go. I need my space,” she said angrily.

Reluctantly I said, “Give me thirty minutes. Just thirty and I will let you have the keys.”

“Ok. So what is it you want to know about me and Nana?”

I said, “Start from those times you felt closest to her.”

Patty sighed deeply. “When you had left for work in the mornings, Nana and I would sit at the breakfast table with our coffees. She would drop in a few lemon-drops in her mouth as her breakfast telling me stories of her younger days.  How she would dance at the orchestra hall with prospective suitors as she called them. Nana even showed me her dance cards she saved. It sounded coyishly romantic. Then she would talk how she met grandpa one night. She had to teach him how to dance. It was hilarious! Nana said grandpa had two left feet.”

I rested my chin on my two hands listening intently.

“What other stories? I asked.

Patty was becoming more alert saying, “Nana told me about the puppies she had. At first grandpa wasn’t thrilled with the thought of feeding four puppies and their mother because he and Nana didn’t have a lot of money. Nana was just pregnant with you. But they kept them until you were born. Nana told me she had named those puppies Moe, Larry, Curly and Shemp after the Stooges comedy team. I laughed hysterically. She said they even looked like them with their own silly hairstyles and goofball antics.”

Patty seemed to perk up more.

“Oh, Nana used to tell me how much she loved flowers. She would tend her flowers like they were her blossoming children.  It’s funny because she gave a whole new meaning to the flower children of the 60’s.Her favorites were marigolds, daisies, roses, violets, poppies, irises, and lilies.   When I was born Nana was miffed at you for not naming me after one of her flower children. She really liked the name Violet. But I don’t hold it against you that you named me Patricia.”

Patty took a sip of coffee and then said, “Mama, could I have some of those eggs you made? I think my stomach nausea is gone and now I am famished.”

I smiled at her nodding and saying, “I was hoping you would want some. I am a decent cook you know.”

Patty continued on.

“You know, Mama, one of the things I loved about Nana was how I would see her in her soft, cushy chair reading her bible in her room. She would tell me many of the stories from that book. When I would come late from a date, I would find her asleep in that chair with her big bible perched on her lap. She looked so content with a smile on her face. The three of us used to go to church together when I was little.  I liked being there because it made Nana so happy to sing those old songs. Why did we stop? I was only seven then.”

I dropped my head to my chest. Lifting my head I sadly said,

“I had a feud with Nana about some silly thing I don’t even remember. As a way to get back at her I asked my boss to work Sundays just to avoid taking her to church. I regret doing that to this day. She loved the church and I was responsible from keeping her away from it. Now I understand too how it impacted your life. Oh, Patty if I could take back my words and actions I would. I so deeply regret what I did. I hope you can forgive me.”

Patty looked at me squarely in the eyes saying,

“Nana said something to me not long before she died. She said that you and I were cut from the same cloth. We are so much alike. She spent so much time with me because she loved the time she spent with you as you grew up.   She wanted more time with her babies, meaning the two of us. She craved more hours of the day to relive those precious moments before a person starts to grow up quickly. Mama, she didn’t love me more than you! She wanted her baby back; her little child; her teenage daughter.Fortunately, I was there for her to reexperience those times. She was in a way reliving the past through me. Nana always allowed my differences as a unique person to come through, however.”

Tears started to stream down my face as Patty continued.

“Mama, Nana loved you so much! I loved her because she had so much love to share for both of us. It was a tidal wave of love from her. I was mad at you because you were so blind to her love thinking her love was for someone else, namely me. You just did not let yourself see it was for you too. You hid behind your job, your anger with her, your booze and the one-night stands. What was worse you shut out your own daughter from your love.”

There was silence. My tears continued to flow down my cheeks. Patty blurted out in sobs,

“There! I said it! This truth has been eating at me ever since Nana died. Listen to me Mama! I just want you to love me!”

I hastily stood up from the table grabbing Patty up from her chair. I nearly hugged the air out of her. It was a tear soaked embrace full of deep sobs from the both of us. It was some time before we stopped hugging. We could hear and feel each other’s breathing and heartbeat.

“Patty, do you know where Nana’s bible is?”

“I think it is on her nightstand next to her chair. I’ll go grab it.”

I looked over Patty’s shoulder as she opened the bible. Taped on the inside of the cover were three dried flowers, a red rose, a violet and a lily. I gasped. That came from her wedding bouquet sixty yeas ago. Unexpectedly, a piece of paper fell out from the middle.

I read it aloud.

No Tears for Me

Turn your head and listen to those words that are very dear; my time draws near.

My feeble breath means inevitable death.

Your eyes are moist with tears; yet, it is imperative that you alleviate your fears.

“Daily life can be cruel; often, it is a game played without a single rule.”

Even in the face of sorrow, there will always be a tomorrow.

Turn your grimace into a smile; perhaps, then you will be at ease for a little while.

When I die, remember not to cry, nor must you question why.

For you see, when it is your time to go, shortly thereafter all of life’s mysteries you will know.

No tears for me, my child and deepest friend, no matter how much pain I must suffer in the end.

For as long as you live, you shall always have the past to cherish; a plastic rose that surely will never perish.

Always look to the rugged cross where Jesus’ blood had been shed.  Even in our death there will be no fear and no dread.

 Therefore, as the elect (chosen) of God, holy and beloved, put-on tender mercies, kindness, humility, meekness, long suffering; bearing with one another, and forgiving one another, if anyone has a complaint against another; even as Christ forgave you, so you also must do.  But above all these things put on love, which is the bond of perfection.  And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to which also you were called in one body; and be thankful.  Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom, teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord.  And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him. (1)

More tears flowed after I finished reading the poem and verses. I handed the car keys to Patty saying,

“You finished your obligation to me. Go ahead and take the keys.”

“No Mama, my obligation to you has just begun. I promise to honor and love you with my whole heart. I want us together to go replant Nana’s flower bed full of roses, violets and all her favorite flowers. Then I want us to go to the store and buy a few boxes of lemon drops. And if it is okay with you, I’d like us go to the pet shelter to find an adorable puppy. We can name him Stooge.”

I squeezed Patty’s hand. I said, “After that then let’s go to the tattoo parlor and have these words tattooed on our wrists. “NANA, at Home with JESUS!”

The rain later that day came down in buckets as we did those things. Patty and I believed it was the angels in heaven crying tears of joy at us rediscovering our love for each other.  We committed to honoring the memory of Nana and especially the Lord each day, but especially on Sundays at Nana’s favorite church.

From that day forward, I respected Patty’s independence and my sobriety.

-END-

Colossians 3: 12-17, NKJV (New King James Version)

Author: Pete Gautchier

Acknowledgement: Reedsyprompts.com