copyright 2017 Chris Smith All rights reserved.
"Some secrets come with heavy burdens."
Some days I stayed at home with Mom while Dad went to work and had meetings. Part of me hated it. This was some sort of sick punishment to be locked away with someone who could care less about being alive. I kept dragging her dead weight around, trying to will her to want to live and she kept staring back with those dead eyes. The only thing that kept me going was the glimpses I'd get of her spirit.
I'd think, "Ah-HA! There is it!"
But then the moment would pass and we'd back at square one....again.
There were always confrontations. Always. Namely around Mom not wanting to live. But I refused to give up. So I pushed her. I pulled her. I did everything I could think of, to try to entice her.
Some days it worked. Some days it was a total failure and I ended up with a face plant in the dirt.
Yesterday I actually got Mom up, and dressed. I thought it was IN THE BAG to go outside. But then she said she was too tired and going back to sleep. So she laid out in the bed, with all her clothes on, and passed out. When I saw her, I laughed my ass off! It was funny as fuck to me! You gotta find humor when and where you can. And I need to laugh like I need fucking air to breathe...right now.
In the evenings Dad would come home from work and talk to with her. The conversations were always the same.
"Hey sweetheart," Dad asked.
"Sweetheart," Mom replied.
"How was your day?" Dad asked.
"Good. I missed my Sweetheart," Mom replied.
"Did you eat anything?" Dad asked.
"Yes," Mom replied.
It was a lie. I knew because I there all day with her and she didn't eat a fucking bite. I tried to get her to eat but she wouldn't. Months I'd spent trying to get her to eat and months she'd not only fight me about but she lied too. I wanted to choke her out. Seriously.
Mom's moods were killer these days. She was turning into the next generation of my Grandfather, who was a very unhappy and unfulfilled man in his later years.
My Grandfather could cut you down faster than you could say, "Bisquick."
He had one side that was very jovial and fun. Then there was this other side, that the public at large didn't see. And that side was the cruel unhappy bully side. You'd think with all he achieved in his life, which was a substantial amount, he'd be at peace and content with himself. But he wasn't. Not in private. Not in those moments when he turned into cruel monster.
If I had been his daughter, or wife frankly, and I had seen the way he treated his children and grandchildren, which was namely my brother and I, I would have fucking lost it. I would have punched his light outs.
"Where's Grandfather?" They'd ask.
"I punched the bastard's lights out," would be my response.
I would not have tolerated that type of emotional abuse. But no one in the family seemed to care. Everyone acted like it was perfectly normal and "okay" to treat people and children like that. They allowed for his emotional abuse towards others. They accepted it was "the way he was" to be an asshole. No one in my entire life, ever checked him for it, which was a fucking crime.
I remember my Grandfather at a dinner where one of the grandchildren got upset. Maybe it was me. I don't remember. He made his hands into fists and pretended to rub them over his eyes, as he sarcastically pretended to cry. Then he'd look up at whomever was crying and laugh very loudly, like someone crying was a game or an amusement for him.
I think emotions were uncomfortable for him and he didn't know what to do with his own feelings. So he made fun others to help himself feel better. He put others down when they were struggling, as a way to bring them down to his level so he could feel better about himself.
As fucked up as it all was, it was how Mom learned to deal with her own emotions. Or more importantly not deal with them. She was choking on the lessons her father taught her.
If she couldn't get out of the auger she'd set her life to, those would be the lessons to kill her.
She had been exposed to another path of inner healing. She had people, namely Dad and I, present and accounted for trying to save her.
Days Home: 21
We've decided to not subject my Mom to chemotherapy at this time to combat her Stage 3 Lymphoma cancer. So, we're taking another route. My Parents and I have been involved in alternative therapy/health for over 8 years now. And we've decided to continue down that path, utilizing some new therapies, and diets. We do not continue down this path, on my Mom's behalf, lightly. We take it very seriously, as it could have a major impact on whether my Mom lives or dies.
We have also added another book to our program, recommended to us by our Family Doctor/Chiropractor/Healer, "Super Immunity" by Joel Fuhrman, which so far, has taken the Gerson ideas (recommended to us by my cousin Matt), to a completely new level of healing (after all Gerson did not have the science we have now on foods, green, super foods, etc when he wrote his book and did his therapies eighty years ago).
My Uncle's family, Maria and Jeff and Matt, were generous enough to pool together and buy us a Hurom Juicer (which we just started using..incredible juicer) and a Vitamix blender (haven't used yet).
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A HARD RUN INTO HELL Book 4 (EDITING) is the juice worth the squeeze seriesNon-Fiction
I was standing in Hell, burning. I looked over to see my Dad, standing right next to me. He was burning too. We had brought my Mom home from the hospital and care facility, after being diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer and decided not to do chemo, ag...