When we were young I never saw my parents fighting. Once in a while, they’ll exchange words and not talk to each other for a while but that’s how it ended. If someone asked me back then, I would have told the person my parents had a loving relationship. We were raised in love and were raised in Christian values because both my parents were Christian leaders.
Then we grew up. My junior sister got married first and left home. My brother followed and a few years later, I also got married and left home. My parents started a phase where all their children have left home. In my mind, I thought they were going to love their newfound space. Once in their lives, they were going to have a lone time to themselves and be busy loving each other.
Couples handle the empty nest phase of their lives differently and I guess my parents started struggling once we were off the scene.
It was my mother who started complaining about the lifestyle of my father. It could be about the little thing such as not coming home early after church. They’ll pick up a fight, not the usual fight we knew, this one was bitter. I could be on the phone with my mom and hear my dad in the background shouting. Of course, my mom wouldn’t keep quiet so she would stop talking to me and respond to my dad. For several minutes, I would be on the phone listening to them insult each other. It broke my heart that the loving parents I once knew could sink that low.
You resolve a problem between them today and the next day, another one will arise. My mom called one morning. It was my husband who picked up the phone. She didn’t even wait to hear my husband’s voice, thinking it was me who picked up the call, she started ranting. “Can you believe what your father called me this morning? Your father called me a thief and I’ll never forgive him that.”
She was sobbing when my husband said, “Mom, this is not Dufie. It’s me.” My mom got angry and started yelling at my husband; “Why didn’t you say it from the beginning? You were quiet until I told you everything, what kind of disrespect is that?”
I took the phone from my husband and my mom went back to sobbing again while narrating what my dad has done to her. Again, I overheard my dad saying in the background, “Don’t mind her, she’s just a lying old woman.”
My dad couldn’t find his money and went to ask my mom if she had set eyes on the money anywhere in the room. That was it. My mom interpreted that question as an insult and started a fight with my dad.
Each time they bring a fight to you and you suggest anything that does not favour them, they would accuse you of taking sides. They’ll cut the call on you and not talk to you for several days. My mom did it. My dad did it. They did it not only to me but to my other siblings.
My brother for instance supported my dad in every fight. She accused my mom of suffering from severe menopause. Because of that, my mom avoided him whenever there was a fight. It hurt her heart so much when I didn’t support her during a fight. Our support meant a lot to her.
We were not picking sides. We were only trying to judge who was wrong and who was right. Sometimes I would just listen without saying a word and she’ll scream, “Won’t you say anything? Your dad is wrong and you’re quiet about it? Obviously, you love your dad more than you love me so even when he’s wrong you can’t say it.”
I don’t know how my siblings were taking it but to me, it was very frustrating. It affected my mental health and even my marriage. They didn’t have barriers, especially my mom. She could call me as late as 12 am telling me my dad snores like a man who has a side chick. She’ll destroy our night and destroy the aura between me and my husband that night just because of a snore. If she calls and you don’t pick up, she’ll call you a thousand times as if there is a fire in the house.
It was tiring so I had a meeting with my siblings and decided the best thing was for them to be separated. We didn’t know how. They had spent over thirty-four years together. We didn’t know who’ll go where once they separate.
One day they had a fight and I told my dad, “The way you two are fighting every day, if we don’t take care you’ll kill each other one day. Why don’t you go your separate ways for a while?” My dad responded, “I wish there was a place I could go to. I would have left this hell and be free.”
When I told my mom about the idea of separation, she interpreted it as divorce and screamed, “Oh I will divorce him one day and drive him out of this house. He thinks he can send me to my early grave. Wait and see, I’ll divorce him very soon so start looking for a new place for him. What kind of an old devil is that?”
They had a fight and my dad came to live with me and my husband. He had a beautiful relationship with my husband so it was easier. When my mom got to know he was living with us, she charged; “Why are you entertaining him in your house? Drive him away. He’s a bad influence.”
Four days later my dad fell sick and was taken to the hospital. When I told my mom, she rushed to his side at the hospital, taking care of him as if they never had a fight. A few days later my dad died.
My mom blamed me for the death of my dad. “You killed him. At first, you convinced him to divorce me and then you gave him a place to die knowing very well he couldn’t live without me. If I were on his side when he fell sick, he wouldn’t have died. I’ll never forgive you. You killed my husband.”
I thought it was a fresh pain and she would grow out of it. She never did. She told anyone who would listen that I was responsible for the death of my dad. She tried to use that to create confusion between me and my siblings. During my dad’s funeral, she didn’t look at me. She did everything to drive me away from the funeral. Immediately she sees me, she would plunge into a dirge, “Ato, your killers are here. They are pretending they are sad but in their hearts they are happy. If there’s a ghost town and you live there, do something to them. I was your loving wife but they tried to separate you from me. Don’t forgive them Ato, don’t forgive them.”
I mourned the death of my dad and also mourned the death of the relationship between me and my mom. Everyone told me she would grow out of it. “When the pain goes down, she would see clearly that it wasn’t your fault.”
It’s been three years and counting but my mother doesn’t talk to me. She keeps telling my siblings that I’m the devil and that they should make sure I get nothing when she dies else her ghost will hunt them down.
I’m not thinking about properties, I’m thinking about making peace with my mom before she dies. She’s sixty-three and hates me. I love her regardless of everything she’d taken me through. I wish she could see reason and drop her armor. She hates me, hates my husband, and doesn’t want to see my kids. Elders have spoken to her, and many high-profile people have preached forgiveness to her but her heart is still as hard as a stone towards me.
If she dies today without forgiving me, it will hurt my soul but I think I’ve tried my best. Currently, I’ve stopped begging. I’ve stopped calling her and I’ve stopped going to her, hoping she’ll miss me and call me one day. If one day she calls, I’ll run back into her embrace. If she doesn’t, I leave her to God because he knows my heart and knows I didn’t do anything wrong.