Tough times, day two

Day two of “the tough times”, that is what I am calling it. I cant get Dad or Michelle off my mind. The other night at prayer someone mentioned another family where the matriarch had passed away, and how sometimes family’s struggle after that. If she only knew.
The loss of mom started a firestorm of problems for our small family. As she struggled for those 21 days before her passing, it drew us closer together, for the most part. I yelled at one of my aunts at one point, telling her to go home because she was so mean to my father. As mom fell into unconsciousness later that evening, I called her back to the hospital. We apologized to each other, but our relationship will never be the same. My dad wants nothing to do with another of mom’s sisters, because for years they helped her out, only to see nothing in return. But I saw a different side to her, and as Mom slowly left us, she kept reading about possible cures on the Internet, kept on the doctors and nurses, and even tried to see about moving Mom to a St. Louis hospital to help her. She cared deeply for mom, and sadly all my dad sees is that she owes him money.
Of course, my sister is angry at me over my relationship with mom. For many years my mother was more like a friend to me than a mom. She was an incredible listener, and she did more worrying for other people than she did for herself. And the one thing she craved more than anything else was a relationship with my sister. She would call and leave messages, cry over unreturned calls, and try to figure out how to make things better. And I really don’t understand what divided mom and my sister. But it was huge in the eyes of my sister. After my sister and her husband were hit by a drunk driver in 1996, I thought things were a little better. I watched mom spend four straight nights at the hospital, sleeping against a hospital table, watching and praying over my sister. And then she was there everyday after that, watching over my brother-in-law, doing what she did best, worrying.
But somehow Michelle is mad about something else. After my wife broke her back we went to Mom and Dad for financial help. I was unemployed, and Christmas was approaching. Bills were piling up, and Kim’s disability would not start for a few months. Aflac insurance helped a lot, but it was not enough. Kim’s surgery cost $194,000 dollars, and thank God for our insurance. But there were a lot of expenses. And we used credit cards to pay the bills, buy groceries, gas, and yes, sometimes junk we did not need. But we worked out an arrangement to pay it all back to my parents. And then Mom died and Dad started looking at his bills.
And my sister found out about our arrangement with mom and dad. And this made her mad at me, saying that I was taking advantage of them. I admit I did take advantage, but in a good way. I don’t know how we would have survived without them. And when times got tough for them, we also turned the favor around and helped them out. That is what mom was about, helping (and worrying.) Michelle then took her frustrations out on Andrew, our adopted son, blaming him for stuff as well. Then it was the Taylorville house, our moving to Pana, our driving to Springfield to work everyday, whatever she could think of to be mad about.
And I want to help Dad, because I crave a relationship with him. He is my father, and he has been a good one. He protected me from bullies when I was small, he taught me not to fight unless I had no other choice, and he taught me how to parallel park. He took me fishing, and started me on a love affair with that. He accepted my friends, my wife, and my faith, without too many questions. He was a lot of fun, but now that has all been severed by the death of my mom.

And my sister, how I miss her and Tracey being a part of my life. We were best friends growing up, spending time on the Taylorville square while Mom was getting her harir done at the beauty shop. We had a routine, going to Mortons and getting a nickel soda from their fountain, stopping at Rene’s and looking at magazines, then to Jubelt’s for a doughnut, then to Pearce’s for another cheap fountain drink. Then it was Woolworth’s Five and Dime, the Little Professor Book Store, the record store, and back to the beauty shop. When we went to Frank’s Food Fair on the weekly grocery store run, her and I would take hands and head across the parking lot to Sthiels Drug Store and the Ben Franklin Five and Dime while Mom and Dad shopped. I remember watching her shove her arm into a soda machine, and pulling out free sodas. I remember playing with the t.v. tube tester at the front of Frank’s, and checking for change at the Laundromat next door to the grocery store. I remember going to the free kids Wednesday matinees with her, seeing The Apple Dumpling Gang movies, Don Knotts movies, Planet of the Apes, and others. I remember getting her in to see Amityville Horror and Escape from New York, because none of my friends wanted to go. We went to rock concerts together, vacation bible school programs, and I helped her learn to read.
I remember being in the hospital room the day Tracey came out of his coma. I remember keeping their dog, Ted, so they could take a trip after they both had recovered. I remember staying with her until Tracey recovered, not being fast enough to stop Ted from grabbing a filet mignon off the grill, fixing cucumber sandwiches (I know, imagine me liking those), and sweeping out their flooded basement.
It was not that bad.
But now it hurts. If I did have my wife, and Andrew, and the people who tolerate me and call me friend, where would I be? And Jesus, who I accepted as Savior when I was eighteen, and even though I screwed the relationship up several times over the years, still somehow puts up with my crap. Life would be so different without these people in my life.
No matter what happens, I am grateful for God. Without Him, there would be no Kim, no Andrew, no Allens, no Glenn, no Paul, no Lori, no Nicoles, no Jerry, no Mr. Karnes, no Joe, no T-Dawgs, no Mikes, no Mindy, no Rosalind and James, no cats, no family to talk (blog) about, no Big Bang Theory or Lost, or Survivor, or Scrubs, or WWE, no books, no people that I love to tease, no Internet to ramble on, and no one to talk to when times are tough, like now.
Thank God for tough times. It makes me a better person, more aware of what I do have. Even though I still want to cry for mom.