Truth

There has been a lot of drama swirling around a person in my life recently.  To begin the conversation this way seems to imply that this is a new phenomenon, but in truth the drama has only augmented.  This woman has been a part of my life since I was born.  She is my godmother, my mother's best friend, my once music teacher and my mentor.  Her attitudes and ideas have shaped me perhaps as much as those of my parents.  I count her responsible for much of who I am and for the fact that I am a professional musician today.  To call our relationship complicated would be to grossly understate the messiness of it all, but that isn't what this post is about.

When I was small, my best friend was the son of a friend of my parents' who taught with my father at the university.  We were born a few months apart.  I've heard the following story from all three women referenced.  My mother, my friend's mother and my godmother were all trying to get pregnant around the same time.  My mother seemed to become pregnant instantly.  Soon after, my friend's mother became pregnant, but my godmother never did.

As I was growing up, my godmother told the best stories about her days teaching high school choral music.  Both she and my godfather loved their students and took special interest in their lives.  This interest could even be called transformative for many of them. A few of these people I'd only heard about growing up who came to my godfather's funeral decades later to recount the positive impact of these two people in their lives.

While growing up, I heard many messages from her about women and children with the message that if you want a career or any sort of happy life, it is best not to have children. I particularly remember one story of her meeting a woman on a beach in Hawaii who was allegedly complaining to her that the men get to have all the fun while they are left on the side because they are the 'cow' because they have to physically feed the small children.  Eventually such things turned to statements of being glad that she never had children.  She would occasionally mention the children with problems that had been offered to them by the adoption agency.  They did not want these children. At the same time, I would go upstairs to their spare bedroom and find the nursery they prepared for the child that never came, complete with a crib and rocking horse.  Gradually the room filled with other discarded or saved items, but the rocking horse at least was there through my teen years.

As my godmother has aged many of her traits and proclivities seem to have calcified in the process.  As long as I can remember, she has made denigrating statements against my mother to me while at the same time claiming to be her friend.  These have only gotten more extreme as she as aged and become more erratic.  Finally, at the age of 42, I said no.  I said that I wanted to talk about something other than this. At the time, I knew for a fact she had not even seen or talked to my mother in months.

After the confrontation, I was left puzzling about this person who has been such a force in my life.  I know, at least from others if not from her herself, that not being able to have children was devastating.  It leaves me thinking about what we do with our disappointments in life.

What do we do when we realize that one thing we had wanted the most from life will not happen or is over, be it a career, a child, a relationship, a position or possession in this world?  For my godmother, my theory is that this disappointment turned into a great seed of bitterness hidden even below her own line of sight.  Her relationships with her students often became 'too much.'   She overstepped boundaries.  She became involved in their lives more than most teachers.  Some would say this is the hallmark of a good teacher, but in my case, certainly, it was too much.  In the patterns I've observed from a far with other students, and the reactions of their parents, I would guess that I wasn't the only one.

I also think about her duplicity and vitriol against my mother.  Where does that come from?  Could it be from the fact that my mother seemed to effortlessly achieve that one thing she had once wanted most of all?  Could it be that all of the things she had been taught to value as the measure of a human being, things she continually castigated my mother for lacking, had little to nothing to do with why one person had a child and another did not?  Or with why one person was happy with their life and another not?

It also leaves me thinking about my own career, or whatever this rambling job path I have followed could be called.  My own aspirations for a certain level and frequency of professional performance are well beyond what I have achieved or what I am on any track to achieve.  What do I do with this?  I have made certain choices in my life, and the consequences of those choices have often led me in other directions.  It also might be true that I am just not quite good enough, or that I didn't dedicate myself in the right ways at the right times, that I wasn't single minded enough.  And I think that is true to a point.  I am not single minded.  There have always been things that I have valued more than 'getting the gig.'

Still, when I am face to face with my disappointment, what do I do with this?  When it becomes clear that the shining dream will not be realized as you had envisioned, what do you do with that energy?  That seems to be so much of what defines a life.  What do you do with that disappointment?  How do you come to terms with the unwanted reality staring you in the face?

Even now, my godmother refuses to acknowledge her limitations.  At the age of 72, which of course is not that old, after strokes, falls, cognitive decline and other severe health issues, she refuses to acknowledge that independent living and a return to teaching are not just around the corner for her.  Perhaps I will be proved wrong, and I would like nothing more, but her inability to accept her situation continues to destroy relationships and alienate those who truly do love her.


(July 2018)