I was heavy with sadness. I was so torn as to what I should do. I was angry that it was a decision that I had to even contemplate. What child should have to make a decision as to whether or not it was appropriate to attend their grandmother's funeral? It was, however, my reality and I had a choice to make.
I thought about my relationship with my birth mom. It had been nonexistent for the past four years. But if this accident had truly caused her to change and she really wanted a relationship with me, would I later regret not being there? I beat myself over this for the five days until the funeral.
I felt like I had no one to turn to. I wasn't seeing a therapist at that time and I did not have much support from my husband and friends. I did not blame them at all. I would have been the same way if the tables were turned. I totally understood why. They dealt with my tears, anger and frustration in relation to how she had treated me. They only knew that she had hurt me. They thought I needed to forget about her and move on with my life. If only it was that easy.
I had been talking to my birth mom throughout the week since the accident and before the funeral and had caught up somewhat on what was going on in our lives since she stopped communicating with me. I decided that I would just talk to her about the funeral and why I was not comfortable going. Each time we talked I had the words on the tip of my tongue, but I could not bring myself to do it. It seemed so insensitive on my part. She was grieving her mom's death and, at the time, did not know what her dad's outcome was going to be. She was planning a funeral with her sisters, her dad was in a coma in a hospital in another state unable to even attend his wife's funeral, she had a recurrence of cancer, and she was separated from her husband. I felt like I was just being a baby and I needed to get over myself. This was about her...not me.
However, that was my problem and continues to be to this day. I am always excusing the behavior and actions of others because I feel like I'm being selfish if I mention how I feel. I so often get caught up in what is going on in other's lives that I do not take care of myself. Why would anyone treat me with respect if they know I'll take whatever crap they give me, forgive easily, then move on like nothing ever happened?
Despite my feelings, I still had to decide what to do. I only had a day left to do it. Should I stay or should I go? Did I mention I am a terrible decision maker? I wish I had the support of my adoptee friends I have now at that time. I know it would have helped.