Circular Conversations

Tuesday’s Truth 

Last Friday, Efed and I stayed in the entire day. We didn’t go to the market, to the café, or even to the free library that’s in her hood. Instead, we sat on her sofa (or lied on the floor) and talked about everything that we’ve needed (well, almost everything) we’ve needed to discuss for a good long while. Topics ranged from my eating stuff to expectations of adulthood that we had as children, and culminated with a really frank and open discussion about my mother and our parents. Grief is a weird thing. It comes in waves, presenting itself sometimes silent and prodding, and other times harrowed and loud.

It feels like I’ve been grieving my mother for almost twenty years. Between the fission that occurred when her life separated from mine when I was a teenager, and her actual death just a few years ago, there has now been more time in my life that I’ve been without her than I’ve shared. I don’t know if that makes me want to villainize her or idolize her; both are equally possible given my frame of mind, and if that sticky thing called grief is being quiet or making a symphony.

Undoubtedly, Efed was closer with our mother than I ever hoped to be; the connection they shared is one that is so vastly different from what we had. As the firstborn, and six years older, Efed has been witness to realities that I was too young or too blinded to see. Because of it, her grief is so much different than mine. It’s stronger; more real; more impacting. Where I knew that Gail was gone for a good ten years before she actually passed on, Efed kept up a viable and vibrant relationship with her. As a result, I’ve always felt that my grief and my longing was less than hers.

Our conversation Friday reminded me that grief most certainly isn’t the same for everyone, and manifests in different ways. Where Efed has lately not wanted to talk about her, all I’ve wanted to do is to get to know my mother, posthumously, of course. It’s as if now that it is so incredibly final that I can’t have her in my life, I’m greedy for all the details I can cobble together about her existence. Because Efed is my only resource for that information, conversations like the one we had on Friday are likely to be more frequent than less. I guess that means I’m going to be taking a few more trips across the pond. Not exactly a bad thing, considering I’m coming to terms with how not to freak out.