She was going to jump off the GWB but checked herself into a hospital, thank G. That was the bomb. Or so I thought. But then came the real atomic bomb. My two boys molested her when she was six. It went on for years. And this made her vulnerable to other incidents. When you sent her that text before Rosh Hashanah, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. What were you thinking?
I want to die but that is not my modus operandi. And anyway I don’t have a choice. I don’t have that luxury. I gave birth to these children and now I have to plow through this for everyone’s sake. Each day I create a road map of what to say, specific for each family member with the help of a therapist. With the exception of Shabbat, she is on call for me 15 hours a day.
I see you both and struggle to be civil to you. And though this is still new, and we are all raw, I tell you both that there is no blame and that I am not judge and jury. If I were, for what you did to her, I would vaporize you both. Knowing that The Almighty will take care of things one day is not much consolation for me, her mother. But that is all that emunah allows me.
When I see you all want to do is shake loose and scream “How could you? What the hell? Where was your humanity? How could you use her like that, like a rag doll?’ I can’t say any of that. I have to be the sane one. I have to hold the family together because, without my strength, we would fall apart. Actually we are on our way and doing a good job of it.
You both cut her out of your lives because she is so volatile. And, really, isn’t this the fault of you both? You don’t even realize that her behavior is a result of the damage you caused. I understand you are staying away to protect your families from her – but, really, shouldn’t they be protected from you? You don’t see this as punishing her – but it is. Daddy and I recognize this. You are hiding behind your guilt. We have your numbers.
Because of you she became this way. So we are trying to pick up our lives, trying to put the pieces back together. I welcome you and your families at my Shabbat table. I will carry your future sons in shul on the day of their briss’s.
Do you know that I can’t stomach the sight of the two of you? I want to yell and scream! I want to shake you like a rag doll, just like you did to her! But I don’t have that option. She isn’t here with us, so technically our family is not complete. You have smashed this family to smithereens and I am trying to create bridges. My prayers are actually a disguise, they are a pleading to Hashem to give me the strength to get though this.
And for her I must be normal. Her rock. A window to the future. I try to offer stability. I am whatever she needs me to be at the moment, and an understanding mother always. I need her to feel that her life is really worth getting out of bed for. I know that with therapy, the right tools, and most importantly, unconditional love, she has a good shot of putting this behind her.
Some days she tells me things. Little tidbits at a time. I try to recall the what, where, and when: sometimes I say ‘oh, now I understand’; always, I say ‘why didn’t I see this?’ And when she asks ‘do you believe me?’ my soul dies just a bit more each time. I can’t even imagine how dark her soul is. I try to bring some light into it.
So each day I scroll through affirmations on Google and find one that applies to her and send it via text. We keep on an ongoing one for this, so she can look through them when she needs to. When she wants to fall down. It’s a stand in for a pick me up.
For now and always, I am a mother of these three children. There isn’t a thing in this world that can change that. I will always be… An inconsolable mother