December 9, 1994
"Who is the rich man? He who is satisfied with what he has."
The Talmud
A few hours ago I stopped by the Swan River Used Furniture Store in Dennisport - I was looking for a small night stand with a couple of drawers. But I did not find such a table, what I did find was my bedroom set for sale - bureau, headboard, frames, mattress and box springs. I shuddered at the sight and my chest tightened as if my heart was pierced by a dagger. I quickly left the store and went to my car. It was one thing to be told your possessions have been thrown away and sold. it's quite another to actually see them on sale in a store.
Somethings should remain forever lost and never found - out of sight, out of mind. I have been learning to live with the fact that everything I once owned is now gone forever. But finding my bedroom set for sale has made me realize how much I've truly lost - and it has confirmed within me the malicious and menacing meanness of those involved. I am aroused with agonizing anger that wants to attack, to retaliate relentlessly with reckless revenge and ravishing retribution, to harm them as harshly and heartlessly as they have hurt me. But my conscience tells me that to do so will only cause me more harm, more pain.
For the past week my mother and I have been at each other's throat - every conversation has turned into an argument or disagreement. In trying to help each other our good intentions have only caused frustration. On Wednesday night my mother told me that my father told her I would probably treat her badly after he was gone. But I try not to treat her that way. For some strange reason she just refuses to listen to what I have to say. Many times over the past few months she has asked me the same question over and over, "How can I help you?" I give her the same the same answer time and again, an answer she either doesn't understand or simply ignores - "listen to what I say and accept the answer I give." I believe these to be very simple requests but for some unknown reason she refuses to honor them. Almost every argument we have had comes from the fact that she refuses to listen to what I have to say and accept the answers I give her.
My mother cannot help me beyond what she already has done for me. She is allowing me to stay at the cottage rent free and is paying for all the utilities - lights, phone, cable and heat. In yesterday's mail I was notified by Fuel Assistance that I have a $400.00 credit with Dumaine Oil Company - so that's one less bill she'll have to pay on my behalf.
I appreciate everything my mother has done for me and all her offers of additional assistance - and I am trying to be a good son by helping her as I can and by trying to comfort her. These are tough times for both of us, as we suffer mostly alone with our sorrow and depression. What I have tried to tell her time and again is that she helps me best by simply being my loving mother - and that I honor her by doing my best to be a loving son. These are tough times but I must rise above them, and to become a truly loving son I must begin by being a more patient and tolerant person. I see myself in her suffering and I'm sure she sees herself in mine - and what each of us really wants is to able to protect and shelter the other, to relieve the other's pain.
I wonder how Maggie and her mother justified and rationalized their destructive behavior and sinfulness by destroying those things that didn't belong to them? Does guilt penetrate their hardened hearts or are they too absorbed by their own self-righteousness to know the difference between right and wrong?
For the past few months I have been satisfied with what I have but haven't felt rich - maybe content. Although my possessions were important to me, I have learned to live without them and have accepted their loss - until today. Today I mourn, for what I lost and for what has been done to me. There is no satisfaction only distraction. And to make matters worse I have broken the promise I made and have returned to Chatham.
1:00pm - Eldredge Library - Chatham, MA
contact: fortheheartcries@gmail.com
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