A Mother and Her Son
Recently, I attended a workshop held by a mother and her grown son. They talked about their Hawaiian ancestry and the philosophy of “Aloha,” which means both hello and goodbye. It also has a deeper meaning, which is peace, love, compassion and mercy.
The relationship between the mother and her son was beautiful to witness. They sang together while the son played several instruments. The music was so evocative that several of us attending the workshop were moved to tears. I was stunned by the gorgeous singing and warmed by the palpable love that existed between them.
Later, on my way home, I started crying and cried for days. I became profoundly depressed because for over ten years, I have been treated like an outcast by my son and daughter-in-law. I don’t want to be pessimistic, but I am losing hope that there will be a reconciliation. It’s true that we never know what’s around the corner, but I’m so discouraged at this point I can’t seem to muster up any optimism.
I’m feeling pretty down , but if history bears me out, I will, once again, get through this. It was wonderful to see the relationship between the mother and son who gave the workshop, but it also put the lack of a relationship with my own son in stark contrast. I try not to compare, but I couldn’t help noticing how loving and easy their relationship was and how utterly, insanely, incomprehensibly, heartbreakingly difficult the relationship (or lack of one) with my son has become.
I need to take my own advice and change my thoughts. Perhaps I’ll take a walk, call a friend or make a healthy meal. Maybe tomorrow. Right now, I just want to go to sleep and forget.