Holy Hell... last night was no joke!
It was a conversation of "Biblical proportions" one could say.
As most days since my mom's diagnosis and passing, it was just another day of trying to get through it without being sad or depressed on some level. What I have found is that at least for me, when its nighttime, when it's quiet & still, that is when memories come flooding in and it can be quite overwhelming.
I had been trying to get in touch with those that my folks had befriended over the years to let them know that both had passed; in case they were left wondering what happened to them.
1 person of importance was my mother's ex-fiancée, Paul.
They had kept in touch as friends after they broke off their relationship so many years ago (I was 6 when they got together, I don't remember the breakup so that timeline is a little fuzzy for me), so I felt compelled to reach out to him to deliver the sad news.
Paul, like my mother, had since moved on in his life and got married to a woman (MUCH younger than him) who was a non-English speaking immigrant with a very young son. I met her once about 19 years ago at Paul's retirement party, she seemed very nice but also very timid and probably scared as she didn't know the language or anyone around her.
That was the last time that I had seen or spoken to her. Until last night.
I found Paul's number and called around 8:30pm as usually people are still awake and more than likely done with dinner by then. When his answering machine picked up, I was kind of relieved as I just wanted to leave a message, get it over with, and continue to move on with my new life. But his wife picked up the phone in the middle of the message, and I kind of wanted to vomit right then and there... I felt weird talking to his wife about the death of his ex-fiancée. I don't know how I would have handled that information if I was in her shoes.
She was just the sweetest and most gracious person to a complete stranger (even though she had heard about me for years). She knew of my mother from the stories that Paul would tell her, and I learned that not only did my mom and him talk on the phone a few times a year, but also, they would get Christmas cards as well.
I'm sorry, but given their respective relationships outside of one another, I found that behavior kind of inappropriate. And I had every reason to feel that way, because as I suspected, that "friendship" was used as a tool against Paul's wife. This would be known about 2 hours into the 4.5-hour conversation I ended up having with her.
BOUNDARIES... Establish them and ENFORCE them!
For the next few hours, I let Paul's wife tell me the history that was unknown to me about their courtship and their marriage. It was something out of a Stephen King novel.
I was completely floored... This was NOT the man I remember growing up with (in what little time I was exposed to him).
I kept telling her how sorry I was that she went through what she did, the nasty and abusive things that were said to her, and wanting so badly to be able to crawl through the phone and give her the biggest hug I could possibly give. With each passing minute of this conversation, my heart was breaking more and more... This was NOT the man I remember growing up with.
I did not know WHO this monster was that she was talking about, but it turns out that I DID. My mom, once again, hid the truth from me.
This time she will get a pass as I was 6 years old and obviously not emotionally or mentally mature enough to understand and accept the truth that was happening behind the scenes.
For YEARS I wanted so badly 3 things... a father, a sibling, and a horse.
The best my mom could do for me was adding to my ridiculously large collection of My Little Pony's.
The other 2 were a challenge. But I didn't see it that way at that time.
I don't remember exactly when Paul proposed to my mom, but they were engaged. I remember seeing a very ugly pair of Flower Girl dresses that my mom had for myself and the babysitter's granddaughter to wear at the wedding. I was not looking forward to that... I was a tomboy and HATED dresses 😖
And then one day I remember not living at Paul's house anymore. I don't remember actually moving into the house, and I don't remember moving out. I remember ending up in a house a couple of towns away, just mom, my dog, and I.
I remember Paul coming over to the house a couple of times just to take me out to dinner. I would later find that the intentions were not good... the "revelation" broke my heart, but helped me understand my mother's actions, forgive her, and let go of the anger I have carried for so long regarding the demise of their relationship.
I was angry because I felt that she cheated me out of a father-figure once again, something I wanted SO BADLY. All my friends had a 2-parent household, or at the very least, 2 parents that appeared to be very involved in their children's lives. I did not. I was envious of practically everyone around me. I felt like an outcast, and even more like someone that no one wanted... not even my own birth father. And sometimes, my own mother.
I carried that feeling, along with other negative ones, around for decades. Partly because my mom refused to tell me the truth or talk to me about that subject at all. I resented her for that. And I still do in a way, I guess.
I asked my mom why her and Paul didn't work out? Her response was actually pretty perfect now that I know the whole story.
She told me that Paul liked to "fix" people. Once my mom was "fixed", the relationship no longer worked. So they parted ways.
When I mentioned that to Paul's wife, she giggled and agreed with my mom's assessment. I told her that I didn't understand what my mom meant by that (she has been known to "speak in riddles" to discourage any further questioning that could implicate her). She simply said that Paul needs to be the "Hero".
The knight in shining armor that saves the damsel in distress. Once said damsel is no longer dependent on him, and can stand on her own two feet, she historically uses those feet to RUN FORREST, RUN TF AWAY FROM HIM
The more she talked, the more things made sense. My mother would not hesitate to verbally tear down a woman, but if it was someone of the opposite sex, for some reason, she didn't speak ill of them even when they had put her through hell. This I will NEVER understand. I don't care what you "identify as", you screw me over, I have 0 issues trashing your name to anyone.
After a very extensive conversation that lasted to almost 2am, the questions I had specifically about this relationship, and my own failed marriage, had been pretty much answered.
Paul was not at all the man he initially portrayed himself to be. He used me to get to my mother. He "did his homework" figuring out that she was indeed a single mother of a young daughter. She had a very limited income & resources which equates to: Very Easy to Control.
I remember my mom telling me that he would sometimes follow her home to make sure she got home safely. He would leave very generous gifts on our doorstep (mainly for me. This is where the manipulation comes in) on various holidays. An Easter Basket the size of me (I'm 6 years old at the time), boxes of chocolates for Valentines Day, escorted my mom and I to the town Halloween Carnival so I could Trick or Treat in a safe environment. Had Santa himself pay a visit to our apartment in a firetruck and gave me a ride around the block (no one else got to do that!), and Christmas I was spoiled as was my mom by this man.
I'm guessing the prospect of not having to struggle each month financially was quite alluring to my mom, and I'm sure she loved him as well. But it was now clear to me why they never made it as a couple.
Behind closed doors, he was an absolute monster.
The more Paul's wife spoke, the more I started putting things together. It was now obvious that he had pulled the same toxic, abusive, narcissistic bullshit with my mother as he has been doing to his current wife of 28 years.
The only differences here are that my mother was a US Citizen, she could get a job very easily, and had family/friends that she could run to if she needed to. Paul's current wife did not.
All of her family and at the time, all of her friends were in her country of origin (not doxing her or her son on here.) Thankfully she has since then gone to school, learned English, got a job, and made some friends.
Then she had given me some information that made my blood boil... I was seeing RED!
She told me that Paul had shared with her that he never wanted to be a father; yet when my mom met him, he had just recently divorced and had a 10-year-old daughter within that marriage. That my mother had gotten pregnant while they were together, but that he FORCED HER to have an abortion!
SWEET JESUS... That man is LUCKY I am a law-abiding citizen, or things would have gotten very ugly for him. How could anyone do that to a woman?!?!?!?!
*Slight Backstory: my mom wanted more children; her dream was to be a housewife. And I know she would have loved to have had another child and I sooooo badly wanted a brother or sister so I could have someone to play with, I was a very lonely child. We moved all the damn time, so I was never anywhere long enough to make and keep friendships. Remember this was before "technology" so letters and telephone calls from landlines were my modes of communication. *
My mom did share with me that she did get pregnant with Paul's child but had said that her physician told her that if she tried to carry the baby to term, that it could kill her. So, she had an abortion.
She delivered that news in a way that was appropriate for my age, and something that I would accept and not ever ask her about it again. She knew if her life was threatened, which meant she would be taken from me, that I wouldn't like that. So that was the safest way for her to get me off the subject.
I can't blame her for that. I blame Paul. I blame him for A LOT now.
As Paul's wife continued talking about her "house of horror's marriage", it was eerily similar, if not the same as my failed one. Which just threw me for a loop because we obviously did not marry the same man, or did we?....
My mother told me when I was married and things were just devastating to me, that she didn't know how I did it, but I managed to marry a man just like my birth father (we call him "the donor".).
Now I know HOW I managed that... I was following in her EXACT footsteps. At that moment I got that "cold blood rush" feeling in my chest, hands, and feet... another "revelation".
In that moment I knew that Paul was exactly like my ex-husband. Exactly like my toxic & narcissistic birth father. Exactly like what I had heard about my grandfather (my mother's father).
Abusive, Toxic, Incredibly Insecure, verbally venomous, manipulative in the worst way.
And as it turns out, he had done this in his previous 4 marriages!
His "reign of terror" continues on in his 5th marriage; the one where he had to source the weakest woman he could find to control and "trap" into his life. Never to leave him while he verbally, emotionally, and financially abuses her on a consistent basis.
Disgusted doesn't even cover what I feel for this man. I don't know if there is a word in the English language that could do it justice.
However, now I can forgive my mom for letting Paul go. I understand. And I appreciate her not staying and raising me in that dysfunctional household, just to give me a "dad".
It only took me 44 years to get to this point, but if she would have just told me the truth, this would have helped me get over it and understand things sooner. I'm sure she had her reasons at the time, but I guess I could have followed up with her on that... Once she met Carl (the man I proudly call my Dad), nothing mattered anymore.
Carl was the only man that mattered. I was A-OK with that!
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