quilted sorrow
I woke up this morning under a cloud of down pillows and covers. The quilt that rested a top the jumble of covers was an old star patch quilt my mother gave me about 5 years ago. At the time, we were still doing the song and dance that constructed our dysfunctional relationship. For some reason she said she thought I should have it. When I was really little, my mother used to make quilts and the one she had made me from then had long seen its days. The fabric was worn and tattered..torn from years of loyal service. I took the new quilt and when the last breaths of our relationships emptied themselves out 3 years ago...I still had it.
This morning, as I lay comfy and warm, I noticed for what seemed like the first time all the small unravelling threads and worn patches. I ran my hands over the patchwork and delicately traced the patterns. Seems like my mom and I could never get along. All the years we spent at odds...and now, all the years I've spent avoiding her. If ever two people were opposite, it is she and I. As I studied the quilt this morning...I had a sad realization. My mother could never get it right between us. There was always this anger and jealousy between us. She never could show her love for me, only her disdain and anger really. Snide remarks, ugly criticisms. The one thing she could do right was make a beautiful quilt. The intricate stitches, the beautiful scraps of fabric and the thread would marry and create a masterpiece of pure beauty. I spent years trying to figure out why she and I were like this, until finally, all resources exhausted physically and emotionally, I gave up. I asked her to not call and decided to move on with my own life...without her.
This morning, as I layed underneath that shroud of quilt, I understood why she wanted me to have that quilt. Even if she could never say she loved me or show it to me, she meant well. She wanted to be somewhere in my life even if that damned quilt was all it could be. Suddenly, I was tired and the quilt was just too much for me. I got up and folded it neatly into the linen closet. Someday when I am capable of accepting that I will be able to put it back on the foot of my bed.
posted by mandy @ 5:31 PM
2 Comments:
Your relationship sounds very similar to the relationship my mother had with her mother - it too was an abusive relationship.
And because of it my mother ended up developing a lot of stress-related problems.
It wasn't until my mother married and had me (the first born) where she began to see changes in her mother (I seem to have that effect on women! ;op ).
As the years passed my grandmother began to realise the mistakes she made raising her two daughters (she treated her sons like royalty) and although she has never outrightly apologised for the things she said and done, her actions now have shown how apologetic she is. Now the relationship between mother and daughter has returned to the state it should have been since the beginning.
I'm hoping one day the same may happen to you... and maybe that quilt could be the key.
Unless, of course, you want to try the first born method?
;o)
LOL
No..hell no on the first born theory. I think I have come to know that she will never change. She thrives on the ability to build up someone/something so she can tear it down and there are no boundaries for her including her children. I may have gotten the worst of it because I was willing to stand up and speak and fight, but my brothers have suffered the same ill fate as well.
Sometimes that's just the way the cookie crumbles :)
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