Thomas Wictor

Archive for the ‘Mom’ Category

Mom, I’m really pissed off at you

I’m very angry at you for killing yourself, Mom. Sad-angry, not I’ll-smash-your-face angry. So I’m going to do what you always said when you got upset: “I want to write a letter to somebody!” Here’s my letter to you. Dear CeeCee: You died on October 13, 2013, after nine months of refusing to eat. Since…

 

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The importance of not being afraid

Both my parents were afraid to die, but Dad was crippled with terror. It was simply not possible to talk to him about his death. He told me in all seriousness that until he was seventy-five, he honestly thought he’d live forever. I’ve never known anyone who thought he was immortal. The neighbors who used…

 

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Sure, it could just be a coincidence. So what?

When Tim and I cleared out the storage room at his house in preparation for the demolition that was put off after our parents got sick, we found hundreds of ancient books, some from the eighteenth century. Most were in towering barrister bookcases with ninety years of stuff piled in front of them. Mom had…

 

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One size does not fit all

What I am about to write is not an attack on the Catholic Church or my maternal grandparents. My only point is that one size does not fit all. Everyone is different. Temperamentally, my mother was not a good fit with the Catholic Church. She tried to make herself be a good Catholic, but doing…

 

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We’re seeing them for the first time

These photos? We’re seeing them for the first time. You and me both. Mom had thousands of images, but we didn’t talk much about them. Mom’s guiding principle with her children was to not “regiment.” This was a reaction to her own upbringing. Unfortunately, Mom felt that telling us things about herself and her family…

 

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All parents die

Got an e-mail. What are you so upset about? All parents die. Indeed. All humans die. However, there are different ways of dying. Would you rather die in your sleep at the age of eighty-five, or would you rather be flayed alive at the age of thirty? I’m upset at the manner of my parents’…

 

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Dead son rising

I belong to a very small club. A one-man club. Actually, I belong to several: I’m the only person to be screwed by five Web designers in a row when creating one Website; I’m the only person to have had a spontaneous recovery from total hepatic failure; and I’m the only person in the world…

 

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Swimming at last

Dave, The Best Therapist in the World, told me that my situation was similar to a person afraid of learning to swim. It wasn’t water that scared me but emotion. Feeling deep emotions was terrifying. I was raised to think that genuine emotions were dangerous. This was a tradition on both sides of the family….

 

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Vergangenheitsbewältigung

The Germans are great at coming up with words to describe the complexity of human existence. Schadenfreude. “The humor one feels at another’s misfortune.” Laughing when someone’s pants fall off in public, for example. Backpfeifengesicht. “A face badly in need of a fist.” Someone who’s got the kind of face you just want to smash….

 

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A very hard night

It was a very hard night, the worst since Mom died. I listened to people on the radio discuss their experiences with evil spirits, being possessed, having demons make them look like old women, and all manner of meretricious claptrap. The host had that super-earnest quality, like he was trying his damnedest to get across…

 

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