Merry Christmas?

It was a week or so ago, I’d guess, when I heard word that my (ex) Mother-in-Law suffered a grievous stroke. The news came second-hand. I don’t remember the exact day. What I do recall is that, for the first and only time in my life, I experienced a full-blown anxiety attack. It was surreal. Painful. Terrifying.

The prognosis was not good. She was half-paralyzed. Unable to speak. Intensive care. Feeding tube.

She didn’t deserve this. She had lived an exemplary life.

Hers was a gentle, generous soul well-versed in forbearance, patience, endurance, grace and kindness. She was nearing the end of her ninth decade (and still going strong) until the day a clot blocked an artery that kept her brain alive...

After the anxiety attack came ineffable sadness.

But there’s more to this tale...

* * *

I had called her “Mom” right from the git-go. It came naturally.
I loved her as much as I loved my own parents. Here’s the thing:
I vanished from her life the day I divorced her daughter. It no longer mattered that I loved her just the same (and loved her daughter, still, in my own way). I was no longer a “son”.

And so it came to be that I learned of my Mother’s fate from relative strangers.

* * *