Jan. 19th, 2008


Jan. 19th, 2008 02:20 am
glowingpear: (Default)
I guess it would have been better to write this "in the moment," but now things are calmer, I'm recovering from a strange and mild sickness as well as jet lag.

People I least expected to be supportive were, and the people I kinda thought would be most supportive weren't. That's not true across the board but was a common theme. Being with my family made me realize how little of a connection with them I have now that my mom's gone. It was my mom that I loved the most and my mom that loved me the most. Most of my family was pretty cold, but they were suffering as well, so I guess I shouldn't have expected much. In the previous month, my father had been badmouthing me, saying that I caused my mom's distress when in fact it was his rejection of me that caused my mom's distress. I'm sure my mom worried about me but she was my biggest advocate and supporter. Maybe she felt like she could die because she knew I would be ok. Or maybe that's being arrogant of me.

The funeral was awful. My mom's body was bloated and distorted. Her face had this characteristic "dead" look. A sunkenness. She didn't look happy. Or sleeping really. She looked dead. She didn't really look like my mom. My sister was really upset because of how she looked. I commented to her about the ugly sweater they put on my mom and my sister hit he, informing me that she had chosen it. Everyone arrived to the funeral with flowers and I didn't have any. It didn't occur to me. There were enormous wreath shaped bouquets there with giant pink ribbons streaming off of them saying who they were from. There was even one from my sister and I, unbeknownst to me. At least whoever bought it wrote "Olivia" on it and not my old name. My father wrangled this preacher to speak, which I found only to be insulting. He talked mostly about himself and his congregation and then read the patented Christian funeral lines. He referred to us as a Christian family and I stared him down, shaking my head. The Bible says my mom's in Hell, which is why the preacher neglected to talk about her. Thankfully I don't believe that shit anymore. My mom was awesome. She took care of disabled children and AIDS patients. She stood by me and never stopped loving me when I transitioned. She saved my life when I had tried to kill myself the 2nd time, giving me mouth to mouth and bringing me back to life.

Her death is quite surreal. About 5-6 years ago when her doctor told me there were two options for her: ECT (shock therapy) or frontal lobe lobotomy, I nearly jumped across the table to beat the crap out of him. I don't know how many times she had ECT. Over 40 sessions I believe over the past 5 and a half years. The immediate effects were the loss of her short term memory. To the day she died, she didn't remember whom I was in my longest relationship with. And she would come over to the house all the time, even go out to dinner with my parents and I. In some ways she became a zombie. And that was incredibly sad. To watch her change into this version that was less of herself. Around that time I realized that one of these times she would be successful. One of these days I would lose her.


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