Dear Mom,
A few months ago, I “checked in” with you. Touched base, to see how you were doing. By letting you know I am Queer, I brought you into my closeted world – where the rules of society are stifling and empathy runs rampant. It is hardly a terrible place, the people in it make the best of it – they live and love when the whole world points and stares and decides for them otherwise. I knew how hard it would be for you. I knew I would be responsible for everything you went through hearing of my sexuality. And strangely enough, I would have to be ok with your turmoil. I decided I was going to be ok with it because I knew I would be there for you. I promised you I would be there for you. But…you did not understand that as my intention. You did not understand that I had your back even if no one had mine. You said to me that you could not speak at distance about “it”. You needed to speak with me face to face and if you could miraculously fly out the very next day and appear in front of me you would. And you would speak to me. I could feel your hurt. I could feel the pressure that you said I was putting on you by simply asking, “Mom, can we talk? Hows it going?” But what choice did I have but to agree? 14,000 odd miles separate us and I agreed to shut up so that I could in some perverse way keep my promise.
Your favourite cynic (arguably) – once wrote – Happiness is an agreeable sensation, arising from contemplating the misery of others. At this very moment, the impossible cost of my happiness appears to me to be your misery. And I do not wish that. I never wished that. Yet – Here we are. You and Dad came to visit a few months later. 2 weeks and 2 days. We ate. We cooked. We shopped. We watched movies. We told each other silly stories. We saw the first snowfall. We grumbled about the miserable cold. We kissed each other good night. And good morning. We never spoke.
At 2 weeks and 1 day, the evening prior to the morning of your flight back home – You say you want to tell me something. You tell me that you cannot talk to me this time. You thought I was focused on work. You said you need time, that it is not easy for you. I tried explaining to you that you weren’t alone. I tried telling you that you had all the time you needed but you didn’t have to do it alone. I tried to help you understand that I knew the difficulty in having to speak about something we are conditioned against. But it was falling on ears that could not hear me. I heard you drop the word “pressure” again and again. I saw your tears. I saw the stubborn set of jaw every time I urged acknowledgement. I said “Mom, I need to live my life. This is my life. It is on hold right now.” – And you said to me, “Is that a threat ?”
I am not a profane child. While I may write many a profanity, I do not utter very many an uncouth word. Yet, the choice quizzical profanities that came rushing to the tip of my tongue would’ve surprised even the most drunken sailor. But you heard no such thing. I breathed in and turned to you with my pleading eyes. For they were pleading by that point. I said “No. How could it be a threat? I want to live my life.”
We continued this odd conversation to no avail. I let out a sigh sometime then and said “You have all the time you need.” And the door knocked. Dad was back after his shopping escapades. The conversation had to come to its natural close. After all, He does not know his daughter is Queer. My sister urged you to go to the bathroom to freshen up and wipe off the tear tracks so he would not see and wonder. I, on the other hand, was perfectly composed because I play with my feelings like a fine instrument. I cracked a joke with my sister just as he walks in and all was fine in your world again.
Later that night, I return to my place. My world. Considering the events of the evening, I think I am doing quite well …merely tired and ready to read a book and sleep when suddenly while walking about – I stop. For no apparent reason. And for precisely two minutes, I clenched my eyes and cried. Standing still. The next day I waved goodbye to Dad and you at the airport. Hoping you would reach home safely. And a part of me was wondering what was to come for me.
As I write this letter to you which you shall never read for it would hurt too much and I could not do that to you … the skin around my eyes are raw. No, it is not because of the cold. But while I know I am alone in my world, I always believed once you knew it would not be so. It would be a wee bit better. But I guess I am alone. I just wish it wasn’t you who reminded me that I am.
Love Always,
QC
While I understand that no one can substitute for family esp. mom, you are not alone. Hardly. We are there for you. And with you. Big hug.
QC… very aptly written and i was at the brink of each one of your emotion. 🙂
This is beautiful, brave, and most of all touchingly loving. You will be just fine. xx
I am in tears, and I can’t stop it. The last line breaks my heart.I hope things change for the better. Please remember : For us, queers our friends are our family. Big Hugs!
I understand how you feel – hoping to get comfort and getting coldness. Mothers are the most difficult because we grow up in their arms and then when we realize we are queer we start having to take care of them in a sense – guard them & protect them from the things they don’t, won’t & can’t understand… It’s confusing and I’m really really sorry. I hope the situation resolves eventually, and that they come around with time.
oh QC…<3
You have elicited a lot of tears..mine included, dear QC..
You know this statement : “At this very moment, the impossible cost of my happiness appears to me to be your misery. ” is something I always debate this in my head : Coz I wonder whether in my quest to come out and unburden myself, I will be burdening my parents with something they cannot deal with.. and yet i am convinced it is for the greater good.. of our relationship and eventually the community..
And hugs to you! you are not alone!
Nicely written as always QA. While I empathize with you and am pretty much on the same page, this has helped me – I kept waiting for my parents’ acceptance to move forward. Why? for what? Expectation kills and I find it a lot happier and easier on myself to just take things as I come and live my life. I loe that my sisters have been very supportive but frankly I was prepared for worst. Remember Seabiscuit -“You don’t throw a whole life away just because you are banged up a little bit”. So while having family”s, esp parents’, esp mom’s is nice, we can’t hang our lives on that. Love your life! Live your life!!
Some day… when you have the courage….
Your voice and your words will break walls.
And as much as it would hurt her to have to hear it, she must.
She’s too important to not have to listen to the echo of your heart.
If the wall is too strong… try even harder.
Wow is all i can say and it is uncannily ironic that its Mom upside down!! 🙂
It was very well written. I could sense the turmoil in your words. Its funny how the simplest can be so painful…
Dear All,
*Big Hugs* to every single one of you. I appreciate your comments of support and empathy, They help me immensely. Many of you validly urge the right perspective – to live my life, break walls, that I am not alone and of course, that I will be just fine 🙂
At this point as I write this, besides the emotional equivalent of a deep sigh – I feel almost nothing. It is a strange standoff within myself between knowing what I want and knowing what I will do which is wait..and wait..and wait. Some may call this resignation – Some may call this stupidity – I just believe time will tell all.. and I guess, I will telling all here. Thank you again.
*Flinging tissues like confetti…for the tears 🙂 *
Hugs QC! We are there for u…
Dear QC,
I can see you have poured your heart and soul into this letter. I don’t even know where to begin. Even before I completed it, I started to cry, I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for you. You have a gift. You are a passionate writer. I hope the process of putting words on paper helps you soothe your feelings. Mums are tough to handle. I am somewhat in the same boat as yours. But don’t lose faith, she will come around and until then you have your ever growing gaysi family who have got your back…
QC. *hug*
One of the most heartfelt pieces I have read in a long time. Had a knot in my throat, tears in my eyes. If only life were easier! Beautifully written. And painfully true. God bless you!
Thank you, PP !
It was written on the cusp of many things… and strangely, I ache to feel as much as I did back then these days.
Glad you enjoyed it, I share your tears 🙂
I understand completely 🙂 it leaves me feeling so helpless at times. But then we’re on a path that teaches us a lot too. And to not lose hope becomes the biggest challange. Big hug beta ji.
Big hug, pakoda ji ! 🙂