"God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted." Mathew 5:4
It's been a long while since I sat here at the table. It's been a trying month. My step-dad passed away on July 29 in the early hours of the morning. His son was with him when he finally found peace. He had cancer but a series of falls in the previous month were what finally took him. Allan was 94.
The events leading up to Allan's, hospitalization are horrific beyond imagining. Enough so there was a coroner's inquest into suspected elder abuse by an elder. The only reason my mom wasn't charged was because Allan's son intervened and made allowances for my mom's age. She turned 92 yesterday.
Nevertheless, I am here, faced with having to acknowledge a cold, hard truth. The woman who adopted and raised me is a pathological narcissist. It's only through the intervention and prayers of others that I am able to find a glimmer of pity for the woman who lost her husband of nearly 40 years.
I have excused/justified and accepted her behaviour for years as coming from someone who was difficult to be with. It's only now do I realize the price that was paid to be in her presence. Once I was blind, but now I see. And it's left me reeling a bit.
There was never a relationship with her. True of all narcissists, it's about power, control and possession. They will do or say anything to maintain the balance of power in their favour. Gaslighting is their weapon of choice. It's a cruel, cruel weapon that slowly strips their victim of their ability to trust the things they see or hear or feel or even think.
If a narcissist has done their job well, the one who has been broken smothers their own identity simply to keep the peace. It's a bitter peace, though, because the narcissist's voice becomes the one in your head. It is an ugly voice and a cruel master.
I am going to get some therapy to overcome a lifetime of conditioning. Because not only was I raised by a narcissist, I spent 20 years with a spouse who was one as well. I am not surprised by this. He chose someone who was already broken in.
But I have a God who sees all things and will use all things for good. The terrible things that happened to Allan are what got him into the hospital and away from the cruelty of his wife. They are the things that made me realize my mom is a sick, sick woman. Her lies were exposed. The truth of her cruelty came into the light. The truth of what she is is utterly undeniable.
It brought Allan's son, his daughter and myself closer than we had ever been before.
I know Allan is in heaven now. He was a good man with a deep and quiet faith. I am thankful he is free from the suffering he endured in his last days and months on earth. I am thankful he was free from pain in the end.
His last words to me were, "Walk on." I thought he was talking about the song "You'll Never Walk Alone." I sang him the few words I could remember. This beautiful song became my anthem during the long days of waiting at the hospital. A couple of days after this lovely moment, I realized something. It wasn't about the song at all. His last words were a secret message, one he knew my mom wouldn't understand. He, my dad, was granting permission to walk away.
I have had no contact with her since Allan's burial service on Tuesday. The guilt comes in waves. But that's her voice, not God's.
In all the teaching about breaking free from a narcissistic relationship, the greatest weapon in my arsenal is silence. By not engaging, the narcissist is unable to utilize their own arsenal of gaslighting tactics to reassert control.
I have given her to God because only God can free her.
"For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." Ephesians 6:12
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