“But I have learned that kindness and love can pay for pain and suffering.”
Alan Paton, Cry, the Beloved Country (1948).
Wedding day is one of life’s important milestones for a woman. Being the centre of attention once in a while is a reaffirming moment to an elevated status that is hard to come by. That was on the fifteenth of August 1981. I remember clearly it was raining but didn’t hamper the excitement and significance of that day. Sebastian and I were so happy we didn’t mind the lack of feasting and celebration. There were only few guests and reception was scheduled at lunch time to make it less expensive. In lieu of formal dancing, we just invited our friends to go nightclubbing instead. As nighttime wound down, my husband and I were finally alone in our overnight hotel suite. The moment had come to make that love into a lifetime commitment.
I was the breadwinner as my husband was always in between jobs as a construction worker. I got paid well as a financial risk manager, including generous benefits such as family health coverage, dental plan and a defined-benefit pension plan. My monthly net pay was adequate enough to cover our expenses as well as our mortgage payment for a three-bedroom bungalow in the suburb of Toronto. So when I got pregnant, my husband and I agreed right away that he would stay home to take care of our daughter. We named her Chrystal. Three years later I had another daughter, Ivy. My husband was doing great being the substitute mom. As they grew older and older, their loving connection with their dad became immensely tight. So they were shockingly devastated when I kicked my husband of seventeen years after I found out he was cheating on me. I could sense my daughters’ resentment towards me for that drastic action; but I had no choice. I filed for a divorce and maintained custody of my children.
They couldn’t wait to grow up. As soon as they obtained their university degrees and got a job, they announced their independence from me. I never understood this much anger towards me when I was the deceived victim. But I kept my mouth shut just so my relationship with them would not turn south. I visited them alternately during the weekends and kept in touch with them daily on the phone. I always sensed their aloofness when they talked to me. Our conversations were not that easy. They never bothered to inform me of anything about their life and career unless I asked them questions. Silence mostly prevailed. I summoned as much patience as I could to avoid cutting the chord of family ties. I couldn’t afford to lose them as well. Though it hurt me so much, I never showed this pain in my heart. I always made sure I had the smile on my face and voice. When it comes to children, moms can bear the suffering and abuse so much more. We are the uncanonised saints. But I don’t take this as an honour. If I could exchange it for a requited love, I would do it in an instant.
I always came home to a quiet house any day of the week. I was used to it by now and it didn’t bother me that much. How I wished that my grandchildren could come here and make the happy noises I yearned for? But my daughters always had excuses: piano lessons, soccer practices and games, extra-curricular activities, job overtimes, vacation trips, over-night hangouts, parties, and many more. So I never had the chance to bond and have meaningful relationship with any of them, same with my daughters when they were growing up. I regretted all that but I must work to keep our family financially afloat. It was unfair that it fell in my hands to do the heavy lifting. Yet I was scorned for putting the family interests first. I never envisioned myself to be the villain when my intentions were good. How could my daughters not see clearly the sacrifices I made?
It was the 10th birthday of Chrystal’s eldest son Trevor. I waited for an invitation, but I never received one or a phone call. I thought it would be a big deal for Trevor to celebrate his turning into a teen-ager. So I drove to Chrystal’s place unannounced. There were lots of parked cars in front of the house and it took me a while to find a parking space. As I approached the house, I heard voices of happy conversations and laughter emanating from the backyard. I went there instead and saw balloons and heavy smoke coming from a fired-up barbecue grill. I made my presence known and one by one the noises came down in a crescendo of silence. I could see the surprise and shock from the adults’ faces, especially Chrystal. Sebastian was there, too. I suppressed my anger and mustered enough courage to walk towards Trevor to hug him lovingly as grandparents often do and gave him his birthday present. I could no longer hold my tears so I turned around and left right away. Chrystal was right behind me.
“Mama, please stop and give me a moment to explain.”
“I’ve seen it all so there’s nothing more to say.”
“I didn’t invite you because I know how you feel about Papa.”
“You want me to thank you for your kind consideration of my feeling?”
“No, no, no that’s not my point, Mama, but the awkward moment of you two being here. It’s a happy occasion for Trevor and I wanted to avoid drama. Instead it happened.”
“Now it’s my fault. How dare you put all the family troubles on my shoulders?”
“Oh, Mama, you can never understand and always think about yourself. Let’s not make it worse for Trevor’s sake!”
How did it all come to this? I went away to ease my pain, travelled around Europe to take away the troubling thoughts in my mind. I tried to put aside my emotional roller-coasters and to enjoy the wonderful scenic landscapes presented before my eyes. I’d been here three times but still there were so many beautiful places that triggered the imagination. If only I knew how to paint I wouldn’t be lacking with subjects. Maybe, I should move here instead.
The trip did me good. I had come to accept the precarious relationship with my daughters. I had a few phone messages from Ivy but never from Chrystal. I called Ivy to let her know I had come back. We talked a little bit and promised each other to keep in touch. I also decided to retire at age sixty. It’s time to do something else, like learning how to paint. That would be a good start. More travelling would be great, too. There’s a wide world to see than be confined to the drudgery of emotional upheaval. So every year, I made a point to be out of the country in alternating three months while I still had my health.
Ivy called. “Mama, I have bad news. Papa is dead. He suddenly collapsed yesterday and had a massive stroke. He didn’t make it on the way to the hospital. We will have his funeral this coming Saturday. Chrystal and I will appreciate so much if you will be there and say something about him.”
“I will be there, Ivy, but refuse to say eulogy for him. I don’t only think that it’s inappropriate but it’s also cruel. I would be the last person to say platitudes to him whom I was no longer emotionally attached.”
“Give it a thought, Mama and see you Saturday.”
I arrived late at the church and stayed at the back during the memorial mass. For the first time I saw Sebastian’s wife, his two sons and a daughter. Behind them were Chrystal and Ivy and their families. Chrystal gave a heart-rending eulogy that made everybody cried, except me. I put my head down so nobody would notice I was dry-eyed. I left immediately before anybody could exit the church. I didn’t go to the cemetery or the reception. I knew my presence wouldn’t be missed.
I was wrong. Chrystal made an unexpected visit. As soon as I opened the door, she pushed herself inside and started berating me.
“Mama, don’t you have a sliver of kindness in your heart. For God’s sake, Papa is dead and you can’t find in your Christian righteousness to forgive him. Everybody was expecting you to say something. That’s all they were murmuring during the reception.”
“Even in his death, your father would deny me peace. And you come as the messenger of misery – my misery!”
“Oh, shucks Mama. You always mentioned to us when we were kids the good lesson of the Prodigal Son. Everybody deserves a second chance. Papa never got one.”
“I loved him and trusted him. What he did was unforgivable. He left me with a big hole inside that could never be repaired. You didn’t know how I felt and never would. That’s why you blame me for everything!”
“Because you never had the time for us. Papa knew how to relate. You know that Ivy’s children and mine connected with Papa very well. They thought of him funny and approachable. While you…you are so distant and aloof. They always ask why grandma carry long-faces all the time.”
“I tried my best but you and Ivy didn’t make things easy for me. I needed you both to be on my side once in a while. But you were determined to make me the villain of the family. Don’t you see I made all the effort of connecting in spite of my grievances? Yet it was never enough. Where’s my redemption?”
“Well, you never gave Papa his redemption and you won’t get one from me either. We’ll never see eye-to-eye on this and I think it’s better to cut ties now. Goodbye, Mama. Best of luck with your life…whatever years you may have!”
I sold my house and moved to a retirement home now that my health was starting to deteriorate. I tried to make friends but old people were harder to please. Our loneliness made us even grumpier. Relatives could visit during weekdays but limited to one hour. But Saturdays were special. We could hang out with them the whole day, even allowed to go anywhere else as long as we were back at 8 pm – our curfew time to be in bed. Everybody looked forward to Saturdays, except me, of course. I never saw or heard from Chrystal and her family since we had our angry conversation. Ivy came to visit once in a while but it was just her. I would love her to visit me more often, but I never tried to impose. Whatever time she could give me was good enough for me. I couldn’t go on living feeling the burden of guilt and chasing acceptance from others. I must be in peace with myself especially when I spent so much time alone. So if Ivy wasn’t visiting I just stayed in my room, afraid to wander around while avoiding the sneering looks of mean people. Nor did I want their pity or condescending smiles.
I was surprised to have my name called one Saturday. I knew it was Ivy. I dressed up properly for the occasion. I had a feeling today would turn out to be my best day for quite some time. I went down in a hurry and indeed I was not mistaken. Ivy was waiting patiently in the visiting room. I gave her that biggest smile a mother could ever make, especially the first moment when a child say “Mama!”
I embraced Ivy profusely for a long time. She didn’t resist and hug me, too. I was pleased and when I released her, I looked straight into her eyes. I placed my hands on her face and rubbed her cheeks affectionately. My heart was bursting with happiness and I mouthed these pleading words without hesitation: “Ivy, my dearest child, please don’t hate me!” I collapsed in her hands and closed my eyes one last time.
8 July 2021