My Biggest Mistake

by Leddy Harper

  I couldn’t help but laugh at her audacity. “Check up on me? You left me at home—alone—with the flu when I was eleven years old so you could go out with your boyfriend. You didn’t bother to check up on me then. You didn’t care to check up on me when I was hospitalized with the twins for preterm labor, and sentenced to bed rest while trying to take care of a one-year-old. Where was your concern when I was dealing with depression after the birth of the boys? You’ve never been a mother to me, why start now? You’ve never shown any interest in my kids. Why now?” Anger turned to resentment with each question, the words burning my throat on their way out.

  Her arms fell to her sides in defeat while her eyes dropped to the ground between us. “I know I haven’t been much of a mother to you, and I have been an even worse grandmother, but I’m trying here. I’ve seen the kids while you were gone, and I want to be in their lives.” She sounded so sincere, as if she truly meant every word, except I knew the truth. And I couldn’t hold back my rage.

  “That all sounds wonderful. But your actions and your words contradict each other. You told my kids that I left because they were bad.” My voice raised in octave and volume with each word, unable to contain my fury. “My son was broken up over wetting his bed because he thought I would leave again. He thought I would leave him because he had an accident!”

  “I don’t think that’s what I said to him.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you said. It doesn’t matter the words you used, because that’s how he took it. That’s what you made him think—that I left because of them. I don’t care what you said, all that matters to me is how you made him feel.”

  She reached out to touch me, but I backed away, knowing I would snap if I felt her hand on me. “Idelette, please let me explain.”

  I stepped around her. “There’s nothing for you to explain. There is, however, something I need to get off my chest. You were my mother. I loved you because I had to, because a child is supposed to love their parents. But after having my own children, becoming a mother myself, I realized something. It’s not the child’s obligation to love their parents…it’s the parent’s obligation to love their kids. And I never felt your love. You made me feel like a burden. You made me feel like I held you back from the life you wanted to live. Like you would’ve been happier if I didn’t exist.

  “If you want to know the real reason why I left, start with you. Start with my childhood and how you made me feel about myself. Because those feelings, those thoughts of being worthless, was exactly what I didn’t want my kids to go through. I knew I was in a bad place, my mind was too dark and I was too sad, and the last thing I wanted was for my kids to feel like I didn’t love them. Because that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Yes, I went about it all wrong, but I didn’t have a very good example of how to do things the right way. I was blind, deaf, and numb, going down a path with no guidance, no one to lead me out of it. So I left before I could cause more damage to my family. Before I could cause more damage to myself. And I eventually found the light. I found someone to teach me, to guide me in a way you never could. In a way you never would. And I’ve learned how to be the mother you never were, regardless of the struggles I faced—I still face.”

  Her eyes glistened with tears just before they made their way past her lower lids and tracked down her made-up face. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel that way. You were never a burden to me, and I’m sorry for ever making you feel like you were. I was young and didn’t know how to handle your father leaving.”

  “I understand, Mom,” I said harshly, even though I felt myself softening on the inside. “I get it, trust me, I get it more than anyone else. But yet you haven’t ever done anything to change. You haven’t done anything to fix yourself or your actions. You have your opinions about what I did, as well as everyone else, but at least it was something. I could’ve stayed here and gone through the motions of existing. But then I would’ve ended up like you, and my children would’ve grown to resent me. And that’s something I refused to let happen. They may still end up hating me, or suffer from feelings of abandonment, but at least there’s the possibility that they’ll look at why I did it, and recognize that I came back to make things right. I didn’t want to merely exist anymore. I didn’t want to spend every night crying alone in the shower, resenting everything I was, everything I’d turned out to be. Because I became you. And I swore to myself I would never let that happen.”

  “And you think walking away from your family made you better than me? At least I stuck around. At least I didn’t leave you for years.”

  I took one step into her, keeping my voice low as I spoke, desperately trying to hold onto the rage that swirled inside like a tornado, threatening to take me down with it. “You didn’t stick around. You weren’t there the way you should’ve been. I’m fairly certain things would’ve been better if you had left. Because then at least you could’ve come back healed, instead of remaining broken.” I turned again and took a few steps away from her, needing the space from her before every ounce of strength and self-control vanished.

  “Those who live in glass houses…”

  I stopped and spun around to face her. “That’s why I left. I moved out of that glass house. Maybe you should do the same,” I said and then walked away. I couldn’t continue to have that argument with her. I knew without a doubt that she felt my pain, she lived in it, yet until she acknowledged it, she would never change. It would always be her against the world. The way I felt for far too long, until I took charge of my life. Until she did that, my argument would fall on deaf ears.

  I didn’t bother to listen for her car to start up or back out of the driveway. I couldn’t exert the energy to wait for her departure. I needed time to think, to reflect on everything. I needed to make some sense of the pain and confusion that clouded my thoughts.

  After locking the door behind me, I plugged my phone in, sat down on the floor, and began to write it all out in my journal. I had so much to write about, so much to work through and analyze. Donnie, where things were headed with my family, my mom, Donnie’s mom, his dad. So much had happened in such a short amount of time and I needed to sort it all out.

  I wrote for an hour, making my lists like Jan had taught me. I broke it up into each situation, and then again by the highs and lows for each one. With Donnie, it was easy. I only had one low, and that was telling him about why I left—the real reason that kept me away. I knew I needed to tell him sooner rather than later, but again, fear kept me from it. I had just gotten back to a good place with him, a place that filled me with hope, and the thought of releasing that last secret filled me with dread. Our mothers were different. I had plenty of highs for Dorothy, considering I never doubted her love for me, only the way she expressed it at times, which I’d added to the lows column for her. My mother was altogether different. Her list had been compiled mostly of lows.

  I knew I needed to call Jan, but I needed a list first. She would want to go over it, much like she did in the past when she’d help me sort through how I felt about everything. So I made it as detailed as possible, knowing she’d still find things I hadn’t thought of.

  “My head is all over the place right now,” I told Jan after she picked up.

  “Break it down for me. What emotions are you feeling at this moment?”

  “Well, I made my lists, but ultimately, right now, I feel helpless and torn. My happiness is being overshadowed by dread and I can’t seem to make it stop. No matter how much focus I give to the positives.”

  “One by one, Idelette. Give me your list and start at the beginning. Let’s run through it like we used to.”

  I went through my list with her, starting with Donnie and what had transpired between us since the last time we talked. I told her everything, all the way up to what he’d told me that morning. She listened intently, pausing to ask me a question here and there, but mostly stayed quiet until I had it all out. Then we discussed how I felt about it all
, what my fears were and how to handle them in a healthy way. When I moved on to Dorothy, and our conversation from the day before, Jan told me I needed to disregard the words and only focus on the meaning. I knew what she meant, but it didn’t make it any easier. People show love in different ways, and that was just Dorothy’s way of expressing how she felt about me. Jan told me I needed to talk about it and be honest with her, but until I felt comfortable to have that talk without shutting down, I just needed to understand the meaning behind the words.

  Once we got to the list of my mother, things changed. Instead of listening to me get through it all, Jan interrupted. She had heard these things before, talking about my mother had been a big part of my recovery while I was away.

  “She just makes me feel inconsequential, like I don’t mean anything.”

  “You feel that way because of what she said or because of the pain you’ve carried around with you your whole life?” She gave me a few moments to respond, and when I didn’t, she carried on. “What did we talk about before, just before you left to go home? We talked about letting go of the anger. Release it and don’t drag it around with you all the time. Nothing good will come from holding on to it.”

  “I know. And I don’t want to carry it around with me everywhere. But she has a way of making me feel like I’m not good enough, and I can’t get out from underneath it. When it comes to my mom and his mom, I can’t seem to openly talk about how they make me feel. And if I can’t talk to them about it, if I can’t open up and let it go, then how am I supposed to move on? How am I supposed to release these feelings if I can’t even tell them how I feel?”

  “The only weight they have in how much you hold on to depends solely on you. Right now, you are giving them too much power. You’re thinking that you can’t let go of those feelings because you can’t be honest with them. Let’s look at that for a second. They aren’t keeping you from opening up and telling them how you feel—you are. Only you can determine how much power they have. And right now, you’ve given almost all of it to them. Whether or not you tell them exactly how you feel shouldn’t have anything to do with your outcome. Tell them…don’t tell them, it’s up to you. Free yourself of the worthlessness, or hold on to it…it’s all up to you.”

  I laughed to myself. “Easier said than done, Jan.”

  “It’s the hard things in life that hold the most achievement. Would you rather win a small-town race or win the gold at the Olympics? Think of this as the big games, the Mount Everest. Tackle it, conquer it, and bring home the gold.”

  “I get what you’re saying, I swear I do, but I just don’t know how.”

  “I wish I could help you, but only you can figure that out. Focus on the positives, look toward the future. Concentrate on where you want to be, how you want to feel, and remind yourself of that every hour of every day until you believe it. Until you no longer have to repeat it. Know where you’re going and only focus on that, stop dwelling on the rest. Stop worrying about telling them how you feel, because all you’re doing is emphasizing those emotions. The goal is to let them go, not feed into them by allowing them to take up space in your head.”

  “It’s just hard because it’s my mom…and Dorothy is like my mom, too. Actually, more of a mother to me than my own. So it’s just tough to do.”

  “We’ve talked about this before, Edie…about the labels you give people. Mother, father, brother, husband—you tag people and those labels are weighted by importance. But really, they’re nothing more than people. Humans with flaws, capable of error. Capable of causing pain. And then that pain is weighted, depending on the person…the circumstance. Take a step back for a moment. And look at your mom. Look at her mistakes, and see that she’s no different than any other flawed human. She’s made mistakes, much like we all have. Much like you have. I’m sure you’re mistakes have caused someone pain, but you still deserve forgiveness. So does she.”

  “But she hasn’t done anything to earn forgiveness.”

  A sigh rang through my ear and it washed over me like a breeze through a window. “Forgiveness isn’t for the person making the error. It’s for the person wronged. It’s so you can move on without the pain, anguish, resentment. You need to forgive, and mean it. Only then will you be able to move on.”

  Her words quieted me, leaving me unable to speak. They swirled around in my head, settling in places that calmed me, giving me peace with things I hadn’t acknowledged were at war. I had heard this before, that forgiveness is for the victim, but I never put myself in the equation. I never applied it to myself and the things I’ve been through. But she was right. I needed to forgive for my own peace of mind.

  “Thank you so much, Jan. You will never know how much you’ve helped me, and I don’t think I can ever repay you. I don’t even want to think about where my life would be right now had you not come knocking on my door.”

  “You don’t need to thank me. And you can repay me by getting your life back. By loving your children the way they are meant to be loved. By loving yourself. That’s all I need for payment. I only need you to be happy.”

  I smiled, even though she couldn’t see it. But it was a real smile, one that came from deep within myself. I felt it on my lips, in my cheeks, and in my heart. And I knew what I needed to do next. I had bridges that needed to be mended and forgiveness that needed to be given.

  After my phone call ended, I threw on some clothes and headed out in search of the peace I needed.

  “I must say, I’m a little surprised you came to see me.”

  I took a sip of my water to wet my tongue and smiled. “Not any more surprised than I am,” I said with a laugh. “But I feel like we have a lot to talk about. And I’d rather talk to you about it instead of assuming or having a one-sided conversation in my head about it.”

  I had gone to the furniture store to see Beth. It was lunchtime so she grabbed her purse and agreed to meet me at the Panera Bread down the street. We ordered food and then sat outside, neither one of us talking until we were seated.

  “I went to Donnie’s parents’ house yesterday. Why didn’t you tell me about his dad?” I asked, hoping my question didn’t come off as accusing.

  She shrugged and looked around before her eyes settled on me. “It wasn’t my place to say anything. When it comes to you and Donnie, I’ve always felt like I have to watch what I say. There are things I can’t tell him because it’s your business, it’s your secrets to tell, and now I’m doing it with him, too. I don’t like keeping all of these things to myself, but I know it’s not my place to say anything.”

  “I don’t understand. It’s not like his father having a stroke is a secret.”

  “No. You’re right, it’s not a secret, but it’s something he’s had a hard time with. His whole family has had a hard time with it. His poor mother has been a wreck since then, and she’s been harder on everyone because of the stress it’s caused her. She’s become even more overprotective. Especially when it comes to Donnie.

  “He’s had to work harder, and that’s caused him a lot of pressure. He’s had to reach out and ask for help from people—people he’s never had to reach out to. In six months, he lost you, became a full-time dad to the kids, took over the business, and had to deal with his parents. That hasn’t been easy on him. And the one thing that would’ve made it easier would’ve been to have you here. That’s all he wanted, to have you here with him. And I had to sit back and keep my mouth shut as to why you weren’t.”

  I swallowed harshly, desperately trying to organize my thoughts and feelings. “I know…but what I don’t get is why you couldn’t tell me about the stroke.”

  “Edie, I can’t sugarcoat this for anymore. You have always been my best friend, and I’ve always put you first. But after you left, and I started to help out around your house, with your kids, and your husband…I guess my loyalties changed some. I’ve spent the last two years taking care of those kids, taking care of Donnie, and that’s where my obligations lie. I still love you lik
e a sister. You’ll always be my best friend, but I can’t pretend like I don’t care about your family.”

  “Are you upset that I came back?” I asked harshly, my words coming out laced with anger.

  “No,” she answered, her face full of honesty that set some ease over me. “I am not upset or mad that you came back. I’m happy you did. I’ve missed you, the kids have missed you, and I know Donnie has missed you.”

  I needed to be blunt with her. I needed to get everything out and then deal with it. “It hurt to know that you were with him while I was gone. I’m thankful you were there because I know it’s been really tough for them, especially for Donnie. But why did you have to date him? It makes me feel like you didn’t want me to come back…that you wanted to be his wife and a mother to my kids.”

  She squinted her eyes as she looked at everything but me. “I’ve already told you that it wasn’t planned.” Her eyes locked with mine as she continued. “I didn’t fall in love with him, if that’s what you’re thinking. It was more of a convenient thing. He was there all the time, I was there all the time, and it just happened. It’s incredibly hard to be around someone that you care about and not grow feelings, no matter how hard you try to fight them. But just know that I am glad you’re back. Your family needs you. I was only a stand-in for you.”

  “Donnie told me that you’re the one that broke things off with him.”

  She nodded but didn’t verbally say anything else.

  “Why?”

  “He loves you. He’s always loved you. I knew his anger toward you was born from his love for you, and he didn’t need to hold on to that anger anymore. He needed to let it go. And I knew once he gave you a chance and you told him why you left, he would forgive you.”

  “If I never came back, would you have ever left him?”

  “Edie, there’s no point in questioning what would’ve happened in the future if things were different now. It’s pointless what I would’ve done had you never come home. We could play this game all day long and it won’t give us any real answers. How about this… If you never came back, and never got the help you needed, I would’ve stayed as long as I was needed, because your children deserve consistency. Your husband deserves love. But in the end, I would’ve suffered because I would’ve been with a man that couldn’t love me with his whole heart. I would’ve been a mother to three children that weren’t mine. And I would have to live with your secrets haunting me every day. Your ghost, your memories. So as you can see, it doesn’t matter what I would’ve done, because in the end, no one would’ve been happy. So let’s not play that ‘what if’ game and just pay attention to the now.”