A Walking, Talking Mask

My son graduated from high school today. He actually made it through, without flunking out or being arrested. For this I am grateful. Am I proud of him? No, not really. I feel guilty because I feel like I should feel proud. With all the speeches about success and the honors given out, I watched my son who won the highest honor in 6th grade, sit in the back with just the accomplishment of surviving and passing. My son who had wonderful grades until Jr. High. My son who suffered through years of his brother needing too much attention from us. My son, who decided to quit working hard in school in Jr. high, slid through by a hair. He makes no effort to take responsibility for his life. He is just like his father. He makes long lists of things he would like to do to be successful and well rounded. That's where it stops. Forgotten words on a sheet of paper to be found crumpled under the bed in 6 months when a sleeping bag is dug out for a campout. He blames everyone else for his own lack of action. My son... my firstborn... the one I had high hopes for from birth. Now I wonder if he will even start college, whether he will ever earn more than minimum wage. I wonder if he will be caught with drugs or alcohol and end up in prison. These are not the thoughts a mother cherishes. Still I smile and yell when his name is called out and he walks across that stage. I smile and take pictures with him on the lawn after the ceremony. All the outward signs of pride and joy in a family. It's too bad it's not real. I love him so much and my heart aches. I can do nothing to change him. I can do nothing to influence him right now. I can only watch and wait. This is not the deep desire of a mother's heart.

When my son graduated today. His grandparents, his father's parents came with his father and brother. They sat near by. They did not speak. They did not look my way. To them I don't exist. I've known and loved these two for 20 years. Now I don't exist to them or to my middle son. What makes people be so filled with hate and anger? Why do they have to hate me just because I don't love their son? Why does my middle son hate me so much when I tried so hard to help him? And yet I stand and smile. I say, "Hello," to a blank glance that sweeps away to avoid eye contact. My heart aches.

Yesterday, I found out my husband is contesting my divorce. He is so pleased with himself. He is giving me hell. He loves to give me hell. And so today he is nice. He converses politely. He asks to have a cooler from the attic for the party tomorrow. He asks if I am coming to the party. I tell him that I won't step foot into that hostile environment and hang up. What is there left to say? Why would he think I would want to be with people who hate me and ignore me? Does he think that tension would make my son happy? I speak politely and flatly. I am too angry to even express my anger. I feel like he's a spider and he's caught me in his web. I can't escape, no matter what I do. And yet he speaks politely. I answer politely. We are "divorced," parents going through the first major child event since our separation. We pretend.

Today my twin sister, who has been my best friend throughout my life is here. She and her family met me and my youngest at the zoo this afternoon. We do not speak of that fact that we have not spoken since April. We don't speak of the grudges we hold against each other. We smile, we hug, we say, "I love you." We talk about the animals, about the zoo, about our children. We go out to dinner. In the middle of the table is the elephant that is ignored. I can't tell her anything of my life now. She won't understand my lack of faith. She will only want to shove some fundamentalist, trite, comment in my face. I can't talk of my divorce disaster and the pain I suffer. She will tell my ex, which would make him so happy to know I suffer. She will yell at me again for calling my ex an addict. The elephant is strong, but my family tradition of denial is stronger. We all say nothing of any significance. We are year/miles/attitudes away from each other. We will never be the same again. I have grown away from her thinking and she will never accept that. She will never accept my anger at my ex. or my faith turmoil. Our loss of each other tears at my heart, and tears run down my face. It is over... that bond between us. And yet we laugh, we talk. To outsiders we all seem fine and happy. And yet I wonder who else sees my clenched jaw and feels the tension in the air.

Yesterday I lost another dear friend. He did not die. He left my life. I love him and I miss him. He was my confidante for quite a while. He was peace and hope in my life for a while. He is someone with whom I could be completely honest, when I could not be honest with anyone else. He was my safe harbor in this storm because I could be myself without him judging my thoughts and my feelings, about life, about my children, about my divorce, about my faith. Now he is gone. And yet I tell no one of my loss. They do not understand. Every time I mention a man's name, whether colleague or friend, to anyone I see worried looks in their eyes, and hear, "Don't rush into anything." They suspect that I might just commit the heinous crime of dating. And so I cannot tell them that I lost one of my best friends and it's killing me. I can't tell them of our friendship or our loss of it. They would not understand, and I don't think I could explain it. What will they do when/if I do start actually dating? In the meantime, I smile. I say I am okay. I pretend that nothing has happened.

Another friend asked me today. What makes you happy and what makes you sad. I told him a long list of the things that make me happy. What makes me most sad is ending relationships. My heart continues to ache. I feel like I have been at war, and maybe I have. The relationship casualties are high. There is a hole in my heart for the loss of each of these relationships. I wonder if there will be any heart left by the time all is said and done.

I smile. I act...... as if. I am a mask, a facade, a mirage, a ghost of my former self.