An Imperfect Love

To the defeated daughter and struggling sister,

Was it some kind of cosmic joke? A divine delay? Did it have to happen? Could it have been avoided? You asked and asked and asked. Waiting for the answers to appear. A sudden dose of clarity and realization. An “Aha!” moment to provide some meaning to the events transpired. It all had to take place on the eve. On the eve of another new year. On the eve of his return to school. An upsetting and unforeseen split between mother-son, mother-daughter, sister-brother. There you were. Caught in the crossfires of a conflict that no one prepared you for. Your tears being your only weapon. Whose side should you join? Why were there even sides to begin with? Your head was spinning. When to speak? When to move? Who to blame? The seed of it all—money. A gift that quickly turned into a curse. In that very instance, the very saying joked about a few weeks earlier rang true: Money, the love of it, is the root of all evil. While the raised and bitter voices are now no more, you’re still stuck with the delicate task of avoiding piercing eyes and touchy topics. The air is frigid. Leaving little room to breathe. At night, when you’re alone with the memories, tears make their way down your face. For now, here’s your formula for success: Speak less. Nod more. Wait.

Things to pat yourself on the back for: Attempting to step in and mediate.
Things to work on: Knowing when and how to step in and mediate.
Lessons learned: All it takes is one too many questions to aggravate an old wound. When in doubt, err on the side of mercy.

Sincerely, Esther