I have a cold. It's a really crappy experience when you can't take any over the counter stuff to ease your symptoms. Between the diabetes and the laundry list of medications I am on, I get sugar free cough drops and hot tea/broth to take care of it.
I can't make myself a cup of broth with out my mother's bitterness coming to mind. I was home from college, on thanksgiving break, and my brother's dog was dying from a bowel obstruction. The dog had it for months and my parents never took the poor creature to the vet. He had gotten to the point where he was too ill for solid food. The dog barely had energy to do anything. I was getting out my stuff to work on a final paper for a class when my mother demanded I drop everything to make the dog a bowl of broth. I demurred because I had a lot of work to do. My mother told me that I was a heartless monster because I didn't have the compassion to make my brother's sick dog broth. I was tempted to argue with her but I just did it because I didn't want her to take what ever I said as an excuse to kick me out of the house, as she had threatened many times before.
Now, when I'm making myself or someone else broth, the sight of the broth dissolving into the water and the act of stirring the cup brings me back to that moment. I was so angry with them. I asked why they didn't take the dog to the vet. They said they couldn't afford it. I asked why they didn't put the dog down. They said because it was cruel and it would break my father and brother's hearts to do the deed.
The next day, the dog got out of the house with an unexpected fit of energy. He bolted out for the road and was hit by a car, dying instantly. My parents were furious with me for not stopping the dog as he ran out the door. It didn't matter that I wasn't in reach to grab the dog's collar. It was my fault that my brother's sick dog got hit by a car. It was cemented in their minds that I was to blame because friends of mine were driving the car that hit the dog (who came to the door extremely upset that they killed him).
I left with them and my papers in tow to go sit at a diner and talk as I reviewed my notes. I didn't mourn the dog. I was relieved that his suffering was done. My cat died the day I went back to college and no one bothered to tell me until I was home on break two months later. They made a point of telling me that my cat 'didn't suffer'. I still have days where I suspect that they may have killed my cat. It wouldn't have surprised me if they did, looking back. After all, they had no problems letting the dog rot to death from the inside out for three months.
Every time I make myself a cup of broth, I think of that and feel a weird mixture of guilt and anger. Those same feelings hit me when I sit down to write at times. Because I was at a crucial point in my education and being told that I was a monster for not dropping everything to cater to their whims. Because my mother was perfectly able to make that cup of broth but she was too busy making herself a cup of coffee. Because my brothers were perfectly able to make that cup of broth, but they were too busy playing video games to do it. Because my father was too busy watching television to do it. But, I was the selfish monster for trying to better myself and pass a challenging class.
I grew up with some real winning people. I'm pretty sure there'd be a phone call about this if they bothered to read my blog. They'd make me the bad guy all over again for talking about family business in public. But, all I've done is tell the truth. That's the thing. Once you have experienced something, it's yours. You own it. If the other parties aren't happy with how they're portrayed, then they should have treated you better.
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