The Occasion where we meet Mom

My brother (Brother #1) is still in jail.  We're not sure exactly what is going on.  No bail has been set, no judge has seen him.  

The wait, as you can imagine, is agonizing for my mother.  It's not just not being able to talk with my brother (although he is able to occasionally make a call but it's hit or miss who he's able to get in touch with), it's the realization that the chance of  his eventually resuming a normal life seems very small.  The fact that no matter what he will probably spend a significant amount of time in jail.  

My Mom has lived through a lot.  Her Mom jettisoned her and her siblings away in the middle of the night, leaving her father clueless as to the location of his children--for  years.  And leaving the kids wondering where their Daddy was.  Her Mother eventually remarrying a man who turned out to be an alcoholic pedophile who molested my Mom and her sisters, especially her youngest sister, his own daughter.  A mother who either would not or could not recognize what was going on in her own home.  Dealing with the lifetime mental illness of that sister including multiple suicide attempts, frequent hospitalizations, etc, caused by or made worse by the severe sexual abuse.  A marriage to a man (began at age 16) who came from a background which made it impossible for him to maintain any sort of stable relationship.  This marriage produced my brother and myself.  This marriage began officially dissolving when my father looked at my Mother (with a 3 year old and a 2 week old) and said, "I don't love you and I don't think I ever did." and walked out.  Life as a single mother.  Dating as a single mother.  Marrying a man who had three children from a previous marriage.  Trying to blend two families.  Having my step-Dad's ex-wife steal away across the country, taking the kids and the possibility of a relationship with them.  Watching her brother waste away and  eventually die from cancer.  Losing four babies to miscarriages.  A few instances of my step-Dad losing his job--being laid off.  Eventually my Dad going back into full-time ministry--which comes with its own set of issues  altogether.  Losing her mother after a long battle with heart disease.  Various arrests (college-aged stupidity) by her sons who were seriously raised much better than that.  Illegitimate grandchild whom she practically raised as a baby-toddler who was carted off across the country for over a year and until a court-mandated visitation schedule.  The pains and trials of her own children as they struggled with their own issues (my own included).  A struggle with the after-effects of a head injury caused in a serious car accident.  A diagnosis of skin cancer and subsequent surgery.  The latest of this string of events (a lot of which I left out) is my thirty-something brother's arrest.

Today, my Mom's loving, faithful dog was hit by a car and died.  Right in front of their house.  

It's like she can't get a fucking break.

As I sat there, my Mom sobbing for the dog who loved and was loved dearly, the son who's screwing up his life and screwing up his children, the...everything...that my Mom has been dealing with recently, I just want to get all fist-shaky at God or Murphy's Law or the "When it rains..." philosophy.  It  makes me Very Fucking Glad I gave up religion because she sure is getting the raw end of this deal and I am glad to know that there is no one "allowing" this to happen to her.  She took her hard life and made better for her children.  She did exactly what she was supposed to do.  She didn't give in to the cycle but fought against it and became a better person and raised her children in a home filled not with dysfunction but with stability, balance and happiness.  And my siblings should do better by her.  And I could Seriously Hurt my brother(s) for not appreciating the effort it must have taken for her to not just  give in and become what her life circumstances were trying so hard to make her.  I realize now what a precious gift that really is--how easily my life/our lives could have been completely different.

And even as she was teary-eyed, red and swollen from crying, broken-hearted about the dog, she said, "You know, I loved (the dog) and she was such a good dog but Thank God it wasn't one of the grand kids.  At least it wasn't as bad as it could have been.  She didn't suffer."

Just a little bit of a Fucking Break, please.