My brother called me yesterday afternoon. EWO has suffered a series of strokes. She asks often if her husband has called...and thinks I am 17 years old. Obviously she has lost a few years. My Father has been dead for 8 years now and I am 46.
When I was 17 I had left home. The last of her adopted children to leave her poisoned home. I did feel responsible for her and hadn't learned I could step away without being permanently tied to her, so I often called her after I had left home. She kept mentioning this to the Doctor. How her daughter would be calling her because she called her all the time.
The sadness this information brought to me was mixed with an oil spill of guilt. I am sad that the independent life of what made EWO is now done. Relief, guilt, sadness swirls around inside me.
I will be flying to Mexico soon, to close up her home and box her mementos. Her friend who has been caring for her is coordinating with me on choosing a care home for EWO to live in.
This wonderful friend who has watched over EWO since my dads passing. Who has dropped everything to run to EWOs aid when called. This Saint...told me EWO said to her, "you know I like you. I hope you know that. But I don't like spending time with you."
I am sad...but the guilt is being sopped up quickly by the empty sponge she installed inside me so many years ago.
6 years ago