Tonight I am heavy with sadness. I've been thinking a lot about my parents. Our relationship has been strained since I left the cult that they raised me in and that they are still part of. While they have not completely shunned me, as the tenets of their cult would have them, it is just not the same between us. There are very obvious conditions on our relationship now, conditions that make open, honest communication difficult if not impossible. I have grown weary of conditional love in this life. And to face it now with my own parents is sometimes too much to bear.
As I was reflecting on my parents and the loss of the relationship I wish I'd had with them, I was informed of the death of a friend's mother. This friend posts on the ex-cult forum I belong to online. In one of the condolence posts, a fellow member shared this quote from Maya Angelou: "I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life." This brought tears to my eyes. Tears to my heart.
I miss my folks. Some days I miss them terribly. I miss the people they could have become, the people I know lurk deep within them. For so often when we speak I know I'm talking to the cult and not them. They are buried deep within dogma and indoctrination and hopes that will go unfulfilled. I grieve for them. I grieve for me. I grieve for my unborn children who may never know their grandparents.
Sometimes I wish and I hope that they'll see what they're missing by choosing this cult over me. I dream wistfully of the day where we can put all this behind us and share family dinners and holidays and birthday celebrations. Where we can come together in the knowledge that our love for each other is stronger than any other force, where there are no conditions, only acceptance.
But most of all I think about the day when my parents will pass from this life, along with their dogma, and their idealistic cult dreams and I will grieve for what might have been. I dread that day. That will be the day that hope ends.