Interesting Twist to No Love

I am reading a book by a man with a brain tumour. He had to tell his two children, and then various siblings, and then his parents, who immediacy said they were going to leave their retirement place and go be with him and his wife. When his son wrote an essay asking why this was happening to him, him being the son, the father thought, “Hang on. This is happening to me, not you.” Then he realised how loved he was, how what happened to him was impacting a lot of people who cared about him.

I guess I don’t have that same burden. Half my children wouldn’t understand anyway. And those who would, only one would be stressed. My eight year old who worries about me in a terrible way. My teenagers are very matter of fact. As for my parents?

My husband told them two years ago how their lack of concern was hurting me. He told them that I no longer tell them when I’m having surgery because they don’t care anyway. My aunt who I loved with all my heart and was the only mother figure I had, who always phoned to ask how I am, passed away due to Covid and it was welcome. Like me, she had spent too many years in excruciating pain, wishing for death. So, I welcomed it for HER sake, but not mine. I miss her.

A different aunt expressed what’s in my mother’s heart. I’m a loser for homeschooling my children instead of having paid employment. I’m pathetic for adopting. And God therefore punished me for adopting against their wishes by giving me twins.

Yeah, they don’t know my latest diagnosis. After all, when I had my last colonoscopy, my aunt KNEW I was going in but never asked about the results.

I guess it’s a positive. I have no extended family except the one who was told she’s “not biological” to worry about me. My death won’t hurt lots of people. And given the kind of day I had today in which I felt desperate and tired and close to death from stress, that’s not a bad thing. Just feel bad for my children. My poor, poor children.

For their sake, I hope God forces me to stay alive and suffering like He did with my aunt till I’m also in my 80’s. Hopefully by then we will have a long term care plan for my children who will never be able to care for themselves. The couple we have chosen to be their guardians know nothing about any special needs and the wife brushes it off like it’s normal parenting.

I need to live. But at least if I die, I won’t cause anyone the sorrow I feel over my aunt, and a favorite uncle of mine who died in 1989 who I know would have loved and supported me now because he apparently held the same Bible principles I hold dear. I still hurt over him despite all the years that have passed. And over his firstborn daughter who was my best friend. (They -and others -died in a car crash.)

I am glad I had my aunt. I am glad I was loved. I mattered. I mattered. The money she pressed into my hand made me feel cared for. More especially as my mother stole my money from an ad I did when I was 13 years old. As did my mother in law who stole our rental deposit. My aunt GAVE. Gave what she could but more importantly, gave me her heart and attention and care. ❤️In her case, it truly is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. (I know that’s not usually the kind of love the quote refers to.)