APRIL’S ALZEHIMER’S
December, 2014
I don’t want to write, but I can’t sleep. It’s eating at me.
I have always been jealous of the writers who say, “I don’t have a choice. It
came pouring out. It wrote itself.” I hope I am so lucky.
I've always called her June in my writing, but her name is April.
I don’t need to protect my mother anymore because she’s losing her mind to
Alzheimer’s, and it is really just pissing me off. I fired both my parents.
They were toxic to me. No choice. But they could have had the grace to make it
easier. Michael told magnificent lies I’m sure he believed and threw his
brilliant mind into a bottle. Top nuclear scientists called my home for months…
years…. “Please let him know we’ll meet any demands. If you could just get him
to call us….” But my father said, “Don’t tell them you know where I am.” He was
homeless for years and died alone. I am so very grateful for the extra efforts
the LA County Coroner’s office took to find me. I can’t imagine how exhausted
I’d be still jumping out of my skin every time I thought I saw an old homeless
and/or drunken Mexican out of the corner of my eye. But that’s just me
distracting myself from…..
APRIL. My sixty-eight year old mother. Whom I have not seen
or spoken to for more than five years. My little brother Nacho still sees her,
but he’s not much of a talker, so it’s not a surprise that I learned of April’s
Alzheimer’s via an email last May from her older sister, who had not reached out to me in
years. It read in part:
I am writing you in
the hope that you will reconsider, and get in contact with your mom. I know you
blame her for not being there when you needed her to protect you. But your
father was the truly evil one............. I am so sorry for what you went
through when you were young........and if I had known what was going on, I
would have grabbed you and brought you home with me and kept you safe. I don't
know if Nacho has told you that your mom has Alzheimer's. It is a terrible
disease, and she is very depressed and scared. Her husband Bob's personality
has totally changed since he had his cancer treatment.......and he is not at
all compassionate or caring. I personally think his brain was somewhat damaged
from the radiation he had on his head. He is not the same person at all. The
great sadness of your mom's life is that you cut off contact with her. She told
me she is sick at heart every single day over it and it breaks her heart. No
matter what you suffered in the past...........you only have one mother. She is
only going to be herself for a short time longer. It is hard for her to
remember things now..........and it will just get worse and worse. Before it is
too late..........can't you reconcile with her? She loves you very much, as
only a mother can, ........and if you could just be her daughter again, it
would mean the world to her.
My response:
Hello Aunt Cxxxx, I am
sorry to hear this, as I would not wish it upon anyone. Frankly, I never found
Bob to have a lot of empathy or to be a very caring person to begin with. I
must tell you that when I have reached out to April, she blamed me for her neglecting
me as a child, saying she gave up at age 7 when I asked my principal for a
better second grade teacher. She said she realized then, that I was completely
out of control with the "Crazy Vega Gene", and there was no point in
trying to parent me. I cannot tell you how many times I begged her not to send
me back to Mike, and she called me a liar, and sent me back. She never told
Mike not to call Nacho "Worthless", which is all he ever called him.
She chose clothing that would hide our bruises. She was very aware Nacho was
physically beaten from the time he was 2 (she saw him drop kicked w/steel toed
boots across a room before he slammed into a wall - more than once). She saw
blood in my underwear from age 2, but chose to believe Mike's lie, that it was
just something that happened in his family, and she didn't need to talk to a
dr. about it - EVER. April put her boyfriends and husbands before her children.
She cried on my shoulder about man after man and dated every creep in our tiny
town, regularly humiliating her children by dragging drunks, addicts, and
teenage lovers to school activities. I told her Hank was making disgusting
sexual calls to me and my high school girlfriends, and she didn't make him stop
until my best friend's dad called to say he was going to call the police. She married Hank, a man whom she knew regularly called her
teenage daughter and said, "I want to lick your pussy." She made it
clear she could not wait to escape her circumstances (her children) and left the
country as quickly as she could, again leaving a teenage Nacho for me to
parent. She was a heavy psychedelic drug user all through my childhood, passed
out and spaced out for days at a time. She offered Greg drugs the first time
she met him. She was not here a single day of my pregnancy. She missed the
births of all of her grandchildren. She blamed me for her first marriage and a
life she didn't want. I have spent a lot of time in therapy, and recognize
myself as an extraordinarily caring human who would go out of my way to not
harm a fly. I am secure in my decision not to see her now, or ever again. I'm
sure this is painful for you. I'm sorry. But there is no way in hell I can deal
with April, or take any legal responsibility. It's Nacho’s turn. I dealt w/the
legal b.s re: Mike. Nacho hasn't told me a thing about this, and I just spoke
to him a couple of days ago. I wouldn't be surprised if he hasn't mentioned it
to his wife. I would not expect him to be there for April, as he tolerates her
only because he does not do confrontation (my opinion, he has never said this). My guess is that Bob is her last
hope, so I wouldn't stir that pot.
Again, I'm sorry. I'm
sure this is hard on you. But I will not be contacting April. xo MC
When I first read my Aunt’s email, my initial reaction was,
THANK GOD I CUT HER OUT OF MY LIFE YEARS AGO BECAUSE THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL I
COULD DEAL WITH HER IN THIS STATE. And I felt perfectly ok with that. That’s
what’s bugging me. That I am cold to her now. For years I have avoided going to
a specific Trader Joe’s because I know on very rare occasions she shops there.
I don’t trust that I will be able to stop myself before knocking her scrawny,
skinny, body down to the ground, and repeatedly smashing her skull into the
hard tiles. A fantasy that makes me smile from the inside out. Even that doesn't
make me question or judge myself anymore.
April doesn't want to talk about planning for her future
with my brother. Her husband doesn't want to talk about April’s future with by
brother. My brother doesn't think they even talk about it themselves. Bob
leaves her alone in the house all day, confused and afraid, and goes to ball
games, national parks, and I assume from their history together, to other women’s
beds. Again, it bothers me that I couldn't give much of a shit. I wish it was
easier, and that I didn't have to think about her neglected and suffering. But
she made this bed. She left her children neglected and suffering. She married
three alcoholics. She disappeared overseas for years. She was state side when I
had cancer. Never made a meal. Never offered a dollar. When my husband called
and asked her to come visit me on a particularly hard day, she said no, and to
please make an appointment next time.
So what am I doing? I guess just rationalizing to myself
again that I am not a bad person. It is my instinct, a Daughter’s Instinct, to
have a niggling that I should be doing something. But what would it be? Her
husband would gladly dump her in my spare bedroom. She was crazy making when
she had a memory but denied it. I have held her tight and patted her on the head
and told her, “It’s okay. It will be ok.” thousands of fucking times, and
cannot recall a single time in my life she offered comfort, or welcoming arms. I’m
empty when it comes to April. Frankly, I’m just pissed off she can’t go
gracefully. And sad/grateful that I have my own closure. I know now that she
will never divorce Bob, get a good therapist, and do something…. anything to
repair our relationship. It’s over. I will work to find a Peace in that. I am
grateful that I can crawl into my husband’s arms, have him pat my head and tell
me, “It’s okay. It will be okay.”
