A Tale of Two Deaths

It's an odd thing, the difference between how I felt when my n father died and when my father-in-law died. Neither man professed any real interested in their Creator, although my father often cursed God. I was there when both died, both of cancers.

My father-in-law died, with all his children, his adult grandchildren, and the spouses there. Out of town family members had stayed in contact daily with local family and drove through the night to be with him before he died. It wasn't a conflict-free time, but we all made our way through it, still caring for one another.

While sitting at the foot of my father-in-laws bed, listening to him struggle to breathe, I felt an amazing *need* to pray. It's not something I can easily describe. It was a deep, urgent, feeling that I must pray. So I did. I prayed in a way that day, pleading and praising like I never had before, or since. I could feel an amazing spiritual battle happening around me, but I had no idea how or why. It was only months later that I was told a family member there, who was taking a lead role in caring for my father-in-law, had been studying and practicing shamanic rituals. She'd been working with my father-in-law with special stones and other objects. I believe this was the reason my spirit felt so burdened to pray.

When he died, I was sitting next to his bed, holding his and my mother-in-law's hands, listening to her share loving family memories.

When my father died, my mother and I were there: she asleep after exhausting herself attempting to meet the demands of my n father, I by his bedside. I advocated for him, for pain management and other comfort issues. I watched and listened to him die.

The scene was so different from that of my father-in-law. There was no spirit of family, no shared comfort in a time of distress. It was just me, a sleeping mother and a dying father. And the machines.

I tried to talk to God, but there was nothing there, only a stagnancy that defies description. I was not without God presence, but there was no call to pray, no spiritual battle. My father's impregnable fortress of narcissism had held strong. I couldn't even muster a struggle to find sadness. He had made his choice.

My mother awoke just before his end came. As he struggled for breath, panic-stricken she urged him to keep breathing. Before long the time came that I needed to urge her to let him go. He died with his anxious wife and stoic daughter at his bedside.

Now, years later, after typing all this, I see that both deaths are a perfect summation of the lives that preceded them. My father-in-law knew he was far from perfect, but he had done his best to be a loving husband and father. He died surrounded by his imperfect family, doing its best to make it through a difficult time. My father was perfect in his own mind. He'd done all he could to make the world around him serve him. In his death he was surrounded by the anxiety and cold distance he had so well cultivated. The world provided its service to him one last time and then it was finished.

What's the Difference?

Now that our family gathering is over, I've been reflecting on the differences between a week with in-laws and a week with my parent(s). I'm having trouble putting my finger on it, but there *is* something there.

Maybe it's the lack of corporate anxiety and the notion that at any moment something may be said or done to cause spontaneous combustion. That would certainly be the case with get-togethers with my mother. If my father were there, the whole thing, of course, would be about him.

That brings me to an entirely different topic that I started with, but I feel like going with the flow, so whatever.

My final year at university I lived alone in a small house within walking distance of the campus. One night, I woke-up to what sounded like a mouse scratching or gnawing. I lifted my head in an attempt to get a fix on it, but it had stopped. It was a hot July night and I was buck naked, lying on top of all the covers. I had fallen asleep reading and all the lights were still on. I laid my head back down and started to fall back asleep, when I heard the noise again, only this time I could hear it wasn't a mouse, it was a human voice whispering just on the other side of the window over my bed. It said, "She's lying right in there." Enter Fear.

To make a long story short, I called the police who confirmed that there were men's footprints at and leading up to my bedroom window. I didn't sleep much that night. The next morning, I called my boyfriend, how husband, who came to stay with me.

I never considered calling my parents. It wasn't until recently that I had any idea why and that bothered me. You see, I believe it was wrong to have my boyfriend come and live with me; yet, I couldn't imagine doing anything differently. It seemed like my only possibility. I think I've finally figured out the reason I didn't call my parents. Had I done so, my father would have sprang into action, taking charge and running the show. While that's not necessarily bad by itself, I would have become a minor player without any say in the matter. My needs and feelings would be immaterial. It would be all about Him and all the wonderful things He did to help His daughter. Whether I felt safe(r) after it was all over wouldn't even enter the equation.

So, what does this have to do with my in-laws visit?

I have a medical problem right now, and many days I need to nap. One day during the visit, while my spouse was at work, I needed a nap. One of my sisters-in-law volunteered to watch my kids so I could rest. She cared for them, fed them, but didn't make A Big Deal about it. She didn't draw everyone's attention to it or bring it up in conversation multiple times afterwards. She didn't announce all the troubles she'd had with them, or how she'd had to sacrifice to look after them. In fact, I don't remember her mentioning it at all except to tell me that she'd fed them pizza. It was all so......low key. It was all so foreign.

I'm not sure how to put it into words, but that's the difference.

On Being Invisible

I was just sitting here contemplating if and how it feels having my in-laws around compared to being around my narcissistic parents. I found myself wondering if I feel invisible.

I don't have an answer. It occurs to me that there may be degrees of invisibility. For some reason, the thought of that makes me uneasy. I don't suppose it should be a surprise that such things likely occur on a continuum. I guess I chalk it up to experiencing such complete invisibility when it came to my family, that the thought of being at all invisible is so unpleasant.

One of the topics of discussion these past few days has been how my fun/tacky theme for the gathering would have been the impetus for my (now deceased) mother-in-law to give me all sorts of similarly themed gifts for birthdays and Christmas. That would have been just like her. Invisibility was never an issue with her. It's something that I liked, but also something that at times made me uncomfortable. There was no blending into the background, no just sitting and watching. She was good at making sure that everyone was always involved.

So, I'm the hostess for this get-together. I'd like to think I could do half as good a job as my mother-in-law at making sure everyone is included.

I Learned A LOT From My In-Laws

I credit my in-laws for opening my eyes to the oddities of my parents. My in-laws were entirely different from what I knew parents to be. They were actually interested in the lives of their children. That's not said with sarcasm, just awe. It was amazing, odd, strange and entirely unfamiliar to sit at their kitchen table and listen to my mother-in-law ask about my spouse's childhood friends. She knew their names, their parents' names, where they lived, their interests, even their personalities. And she cared. It blew me away. It was like I'd been transported to an alternate reality.

My spouse would call my in-laws when something special happened. Job changes, promotions, a new project or a new car -- they cared about these things. They'd smile and listen. They'd take pictures. Things going on in my spouse's life was important to them. All this was so foreign.

My in-laws even cared about me. They always gave me thoughtful birthday presents. They treated me like a member of the family even before we were engaged. It took my mother nearly two years after we married to remember my spouse's name. We dated for four years before marrying. After nearly twenty years, she still can't remember when my spouse's birthday is. She doesn't have it written down anywhere. She doesn't know her two grandchildren's birthdays either.

I'm sad that I only recently gained the knowledge to understand the precious gift they gave me in showing me what loving parents are like. I wish I had understood earlier so I could have thanked them.

Family Visit: Two Days and Counting

Yes, that's right, a family visit, more precisely in-laws visiting. Eight of them. My mother-in-law kept the family together and now that she's dead, I'm impressed that we all haven't gone our separate ways and completely lost track of one another.

When it comes to *my* family...well, I don't exactly keep track, or even in touch, with them. I like it that way. Family, my family, brings to mind demands of obligation and responsibility. It means sacrificing whatever I have and/or want and do whatever is demanded of me. It means accepting that I don't matter. Given that I have challenges feeling like I matter, family gatherings have a big impact on me.

Family visits with my in-laws aren't like that. Like most people, each of them has their quirks, and we'd drive each other crazy if we spent a lot of time together. I do need time-off during the visit, but everyone seems to be OK with my quirk.

As a kid, I wished to live closer to our extended families. I idealized what it would be like to have big family gatherings around birthdays and holidays. When I've talked to my cousins about it, they say they enjoyed. Yet, when I think of family gatherings, there was a certain tension there. I don't have any idea what it's all about, but it was certainly there. It's interesting to note that my family rarely gets together anymore, even on Thanksgiving or Christmas.