Mom lead me on. She did this for the first 18 years of my life. Then one day she admitted that the man who I thought was my father, wasn’t. I felt so betrayed after her confession. I wish that I could say that the situation brought us closer, but it didn’t; there was always a bit of unspoken tension between us. Shortly before her death, Mom started confessing things nonstop; I can honestly say that I guess that I never really knew her. Then there was the matter of her personal effects that told of a life that was far different than I could have imagined. I still remember the night that I was going through her things and found out that she had a child who died in infancy. I guess I never knew her.
Parents can be the ultimate mystery,I think. Secrets (any side of life) kept from friends, coworkers, and acquaintences never have as much effect as they do on family. Some people know too much about their parents; others don’t know nearly enough. It’s a balance, I suppose, that is different for everyone. One of my mantras: Having resentments is like taking poison and hoping the other person dies. It never works that way.
By: boomer, on Dec 17, 2006