Thirteen hours ago, after a few days being ill and just under a day in the hospital, my mom died of a combination of the flu and a MRSA lung infection. I’d apologize that this will be long and rambling, but I’m not really that sorry, and you probably expect that any way.
The fact that my mother died first is not at all what I expected or mentally planned for. I’m a planner, you need to understand, so it’s not as though I haven’t given this thought: both my parents have been in poor health for years, with long lists of both physical and mental illnesses, so I knew that one or both of them dying youngish was possible. But I thought she’d do better if he died first, and that I’d do better if he died first, and now…
I live with my parents (noooo, I live with my dad now) and I’ve helped them out with a lot in addition to paying room and board. But I was planning on buying a house in the same town. Mom was really supportive of me doing that, and was helping me find a house. I’d planned to save a down payment between x and y, and last month I met the high end of that saving goal. I’ve taken the new homeowner’s course and gotten a the certificate that qualifies me for a bunch of great first mortgage options. Basically the past few months I’ve just been waiting for an appropriate house to hit the market. Mom even visited the first open house with me.
My dad, on the other hand, hasn’t wanted me to move out. He talked to me a few days after Christmas, against Mom’s objections, about what if they sold this house and we bought a bigger house together - he cited that they’re getting less able to do things, and the house needs a lot of work. Frankly, I was a bit horrified by the idea. I want to have my own house, my own life, and I’ll tell you, woman in late 30s who lives with parents is not a big selling point for single men; I don’t want to be single and childless forever, and I feel like I’m running out of time. Not to mention I don’t think this house will sell easily, which it would have to in order to for them to add to the down payment for a larger more expensive house.
I’m not super good at standing up for myself, but I did tell him that I didn’t want to do that. I told him that the logistics didn’t make it seem to be a workable plan, and that I planned to be around to help still, and if something happened to one of them, I imagined that the other would move in with me - this is true, but I really expect it to be her, and not for years, not until after I’d found that right guy, or adopted from foster care, or whatever I did to have a family of my own.
He seemed resigned.
Mom was my buddy - we did a lot together, got along great, and dad and I are not as close. His mental illness has put me through a lot more and we just have never have had as much in common. Don’t get me wrong, I love him, but he hasn’t really been my friend too, if that makes any sense. (I know it might not make any sense). But now, in addition to being so so so upset that my mom is gone, I also feel a bit like I’m stuck with him. And that maybe even if I do manage to convince him that we need to move - water damage from last winter to the floors worries me a lot etc so I feel on some level the house might devolve into unsafeness sooner or later- that continuing to live with him, like I promised is going to close off options in my own life.
I can’t leave him alone, he’s not capable of looking after himself and like I said I worry about the eventual safety here (not to mention that one of his meds makes him prone to blacking out and falling down if he doesn’t time it right), so I know I’ll look after him. And I also worry that if someone isn’t with him his mental illness will get worse and/or prompt him to take the same route a Robin Williams because the bipolar are so prone to suicide. (25% of people who commit suicide are bipolar.) But I’m ashamed that I’m thinking about how mom’s death will change my life and what I’ve planned for myself.
I already feel bad that mom didn’t live long enough to see me married with kids, and now I’m worried that I’m bad for feeling resentment that I’m going to have to take on looking after a parent at the expense of my own freedom now, right when I was on the verge of being in a better position of getting what I wanted out of life.
My brother is going to make more of an effort to help him too, and as I listened tonight to him saying we should hang out more, I want to lash out because one of mom’s biggest sorrows was that he didn’t see us more often, and now he’s planning to spend more time? Why couldn’t he have decided this two years ago? But I said nothing, because I’m the one who says nothing, and I don’t want to discourage him from his new plan even if it’s too late. And besides, he’s grieving too, and I love him so I don’t want to hurt him by saying something he already knows.
It’s going to get better, right? These mixed emotions, that compete with the desperate wish that I could have my mommy back.
If you’ve read all this, god bless you for listening to my confused venting. I’m afraid that you’ll suggest therapy, but even if I do go to one I know they’ll encourage me to allow myself to leave Dad to fend for himself, and I can’t, and they’ll just be another person I disappoint.
One thing my mom has always praised me for, and others have noted about me too, is that I’ve always been the stable, reliable one who can be counted on to keep calm in the face of chaos, and tonight I just feel like everything has been upended.
