My brother and I are trying to get rid of all my mom’s stuff so that we can sell her house. The entire process feels like a giant weight on my back. I wasn’t sure why until today when I wrote an email to a friend about it. When my mom was alive, I realized that I didn’t want anything from her. All my life she had been holding money and stuff over my head. She kept acting like she could control me because if I didn’t remain under her control, then she would withhold all these “prizes” from me. The only problem was once I got married, I realized that I didn’t want or need anything she wanted to give to me. I didn’t want to be her little puppet. Once I stopped letting her in, she got very upset with me. Something changed the last few years of her life. She didn’t want me to help her at all. She wouldn’t accept anything from me. If that was her way of trying to punish me, it didn’t work. I don’t really know what she was trying to do, and it doesn’t matter now.
What does matter is I still don’t want anything from her. When I go into that house, there’s not a single thing of hers that matters to me. The only thing I wanted from her house was a picture of Jesus, not because it reminded me of her, but because it was the picture of Jesus that hung in my grandmother’s house. It reminds me of a time long ago when I was still innocent and when all the evil things of the world hadn’t touched me or how I saw the world.
All the rest of it doesn’t matter. Yet I am stuck because my brother sees value in her things and wants to sell her stuff. I don’t see any value in the stuff that was used to manipulate me. Although I have often wished that I didn’t need to worry about money, I never did care too much about it. Sure, it would be great if I had enough money that I didn’t have to want for anything. However, I don’t think it works that way. I think no matter how much money a person has, they always think that they need more. If a person is going to be happy in regards to money, then they just have to understand that they will always need to work for money to meet their needs. There’s no short cut to it. So, instead of worrying about it, I accept that I am going to need to provide for myself. Life isn’t free.
I guess that’s the deal. I don’t want to profit off my mother’s death. I don’t want to get to the end and get a prize for dealing with her all those years. I didn’t love her because I wanted anything from her. I didn’t even expect her to love me back.
I love people because I choose to love them and because God commands that I love them as I would love myself. I believe that if I love it makes my life meaningful and not only my life, but all life because somehow we are all connected.
Earlier this week, I wrote about how people asked me if I was doing okay about my mom’s death. The hardest part is feeling like she died without really understanding love and knowing that time ran out. Yet, I have hope because I really don’t know what she felt or what she understood and I know without a doubt that she was loved, even if she didn’t know it. The love people had for her made her life meaningful. I have faith in that, and it helps my grief.
My faith saved me. May God’s peace reside in all of our hearts.
