So my mom says she was proposed to.
There’s really no formal way to answer that. Whether I am happy about the matter seems almost beyond the point. Perhaps it was a pivot point for her, for myself as well, evidently having no qualms in robbing this piece of news and wrapping it about myself like an ill fitting bathrobe. But a pivot point for her nonetheless. For people out there who may have haphazard stitched families, the run of the mill 5th marriage parents, this is not even worthy news to you. If I were to add to the equation that there were step children (aka siblings) involved, that’s when things get chaotic. Until then, I really don’t have the right to bitch. Luckily, this man has been a single bachelor his whole life.
My mom has been a widow for almost 9 years now. She’s a young woman. Not even in her 50’s. Somewhere inside me I wish I had the capacity to feel joy and such but somehow it seems the most viable emotion up for calling was just a sulking sense of …dread ? I’m sure he is not a bad man. In the 10 minute phone call we had (and I will defend her and say I was the one that had prematurely guessed the content to be ‘introduced’ to my sister and I on another more ‘appropriate’ day in person, but fuck it, I took a dirty shot and guessed it. And fuck me for getting it right.) she mentioned that he had waited for her for 6 years now – counting the first 3 years they had together as a couple, and then the last 3 years when she was with her ex. He didn’t want to wait for the 4th admittedly and proposed on the 1st of January.
Had I mention that the now former ex had been the one man out of her numerous relationships since that I had come to regard as a sort of a parental figure. At least somebody that I could bounce ideas off of, or just a willing ear to promote me further the in the world when I was tittering and feeling unsure of myself. It’s only been over a month that they had officially called it off for all parties involved – an artifact such as me, you’ll see how I am. In fact, having lunch with him tomorrow would prove to be the only man that I had reached out to when I was no longer an ‘appendage’ of my mother’s. Not to forward a familial sense of bonding, not because she decided to put the phone under my chin when he was on speaker – let’s face it, there’s really no way to get out of those ones. You gotta say hello, but damn wouldn’t I be bitter just to relinquish that one little bit of myself.
So she says she’s considering to be engaged for the remainder of the year until perhaps July, August, when the weather turns greener, finer; when it is among their birthday. Was that to condense the celebrations together? Sandwich it between something more innocent? I don’t know, maybe I’m just thinking too much about this. And I get that she will be financially stable, that she will be taken care of, with a partner (at last, hallelujah, a wedded bonded partner recognized in court for all liabilities in life), but it seems this had impended on what I had originally thought was my solar in life.
That’s probably the problem. See, figuring things out while writing them to thousands or maybe to nobody who will see, does seem to work if you just let it happen.
Yes, I had stressed periodically about her spending habits and my limitations to be able to support her when the time would come. I had secretly cursed that she’s due to live on the savings of a dead man for the rest of her life. As well that I could not get fully on board for her to get a part time job doing minimum wage because she had never really worked in Canada. In all reality I had this amazing ability to reconcile these two fantastical images of my mother together: the one that was always glamorous and wanting of new things, and the one that was pitiful to a degree in not seeing how she was in an apparent sandpit. Trickling, sinking. However spiteful I had appear, this was my job. My dealt cards in life and I dully accepted them as such. It was part of my burden to bear to worry for her and plan for her as my father had done – probably with much more finesse – but it was something that linked the two of us on the most undoubtedly visceral level yet that only came to forefront once in awhile.
I guess I feel sad, like a guide dog put out to retirement too early because their owner magically gained sight again. What to do when you’ve been trained to keep on your toes and now people tell you to relax. Oddities in life.
That said with all personal feelings against this man aside, my mother at the very least fully acknowledged that she knows I am not fond of him. It’s really too bad. I wish I was, would make this a lot easier for me – right, I can’t even get outside of the realms of how this ordeal appears to affect me hearing someone else’s marital issues. Congratulations, I mean.
It’s strange, just another instance in which I feel small again.