Since Mother's Day is a full one for me, in the past I've tended to leave a gift for my mother inside her house while she's still at church. We go to different churches, so the timing works out fine. She gets a bit of a surprise on her kitchen table, and I'm free to be with our children for the rest of the day.
And since my oldest brother usually goes to her house on Sunday afternoon, at least on Mother's Day, it works out for everybody. She's got company, and I don't feel bad not being there.
But this year is different. I'll leave a gift there this evening on her carport, and I won't knock on the door. Just flowers from our garden, but I have to do something. Even now my heart pounds at the thought of going over there. My hands are already broken out, and have been for several weeks. A headache lurks continually on the left-side of my head.
With her upset with me, and being more drawn to my brothers now, I just don't know what to do. Communication has stopped.
Here's how our house is run differently than how I was brought up. One of our boys got into a bit of trouble, or what could-have-been trouble last night by not telling something that needed to be known. Not a big deal, but it had big deal potential. I told him that he needed to talk to his dad about it, and with sweaty hands, he did just that. Went to him, cleared the air, and Gary was fine with it. No drama, but dealing with a sticky situation quickly before it could fester.
In my growing up years, we didn't deal with things. We were told to not argue or raise our voices. We were sent to our rooms and disagreements were disapproved of, yes, but things never got settled. If anyone butted heads, the silent treatment began good and earnest. No closure and no end in sight. Just silence. My mom and brothers use the same manner of dealing with conflicts to this day. I married a feisty Irishman who won't stand for it. He gets loud and gets in your face. But he doesn't hold a grudge and when it's over, it's over. I never knew what a blessing arguing could be. To feel the relief of being forgiven, or being able to vocally forgive. What a difference.
But that doesn't change the anxiety I feel with my own extended family. I just wish it'd stop.
