The Weight She Carried

Maybe it’s because the first anniversary is quickly approaching, but I’ve been thinking about my mother in law Jeannette more than usual lately. I think about what a sad life she had and how her memory is still being disrespected by some of her family. I am glad for the last few years of her life, she was able to reconcile with some and build stronger relationships. I do believe in the end she truly realized who loved her and wanted what was best for her and who used her for personal gain. 

I think back to when I met her, our first encounters were fairly positive but I was quite surprised at how mean she was at times. She was abrupt and often rude. She was a very angry woman. Over the years, I had heard from Mike and some of his siblings, of her tough and abusive parenting methods. I had a hard time for a while getting close to her, she certainly didn’t make it easy. I understood why some of her children were still able to love her, because I too came from an abusive home and I loved my parents dearly. The difference between my mother and Mike’s mother was that my mother was sorry for the physical abuse she inflicted on us, she apologized many times. Mike’s mom said “they turned out alright”. The other difference was my mother became a Christian. Jeannette somewhat practiced her catholic upbringing, but didn’t show the love or characteristics of a personal relationship with Christ. She didn’t make it easy to have a relationship with her, she didn’t accept me, she didn’t consider my girls to be her grandchildren because they were not of the same blood line, and the boys never measured up to her other grandchildren either. We invited her to birthday parties, she came to one or two but there was always an excuse.

 There were so many lies among Mike’s siblings, their children, and us. Everyone seemed to play everyone against each other. Jeannette believed anything and everything her kids and at least one granddaughter told her. I think many times she saw the truth, she was a wise woman, but I think she ignored the abuse because she felt it was better to put up with it and have her family in her life, then to address it and risk losing them. Like anyone else, she just wanted to be loved. There were many rumors about me, it didn’t bother me much but I felt for Mike. He loved his mother and would’ve liked her to be the grandmother our children deserved. After so many years, she admitted to me that she was jealous of me. She had expected Mike to move back in with her when he came back to New England from Florida, but instead he opted to live with his brother and eventually me. We got married and she finally accepted that I wasn’t going anywhere. 

Mike, one of his brothers and I had to prosecute one of Jeannette’s nephews for an unspeakable act and even then it caused discord and division between many family members. Although Mike and I were married, I still was not considered blood, but her nephew was and “shame on us for prosecuting blood” even though what he did was immoral and unlawful. Due to the rumors and lies, the distance stayed between us for awhile. We would sometimes get together for some holidays or whatever but we certainly visited in moderation. Mike and I agreed it was best to keep our kids away from the toxicity of his family, as much as possible. It was sad, but necessary. Ultimately it was Mike’s decision but of course I got blamed. I guess it was easier to blame me than to believe Mike would choose to stay away. It drove him crazy how his mother and brother always blamed me for him not calling them or answering their calls, he’d say things like “do they really think I don’t make my own decisions?”

At times, a year or two would pass without us seeing her. We had pretty much cut ties with most of Mike’s siblings as well, for various reasons. In 2019, we got a phone call telling us that Jeannette was in the hospital, she had been beaten. When we arrived, she was pretty shaken up and afraid and physically, she was almost unrecognizable. Although we weren’t super close, my heart broke to see her in this condition. She had bruises all over her body, her face and forehead purple, her hair looked like she had been caught in a wind storm. She had purple and red hand marks on both of her upper arms and this was just the physical appearance. What bothered me even more was the fear and brokenness I could see in her eyes. I would be sad to see anyone in this condition but as strained as we had been off and on for 25 years, I truly did care about her. After all, I wouldn’t have Mike if she hadn’t given birth to him. 

After her granddaughter left the hospital and Mike was getting ready to leave soon after, Jeannette told us that she was afraid to be alone. I decided to stay. I sat in the chair next to her bed, with my arm draped over the side rail, holding her hand through the night. A few times, I tried to let go, just to get more comfortable and she would grasp onto my hand for dear life. In that moment, she no longer seemed like the tough woman I had come to know, instead I saw a trembling soul curled into herself, small, scared and searching for safety like a child lost in the dark. I think this was a turning point for us. We didn’t talk very much that night. She was heavily medicated, but she thanked me for not leaving her. In the morning, she denied the explanation of what had happened to her, that she had originally told us, like she had in the past, she made excuses to protect her abuser. 

In the months that followed, we had more frequent visits. She would light up when Mike or I entered her room. She’d grin from ear to ear when I brought her a Dairy Queen ice cream or Mike treated her to a lobster roll. As time went on, our conversations became more meaningful, and more in-depth. Many stories she had told me of her past were the same stories she had told me many times before. Although the stories were repeats, as time went on and we grew closer, the stories contained more revelations and emotions. She told me she could see how much I loved her son, and eventually she told me that she loved me. She often stood up for a hug and even welcomed my goodbye kiss on her cheek. I appreciated those alone times because our conversations made me understand her much better. 

Jeannette had quite a history, a tough up bringing. She adored her mother and despised her father. From what she told me, he was an alcoholic and was abusive to her mother. She had four boys with her husband but he left before Mike was born. Supposedly he too was “no good”, he left her to raise her boys alone. She often turned to alcohol to cope with the hardships. She told me she had to fight for anything and everything she had. Due to her drinking, she even had to fight her father who threatened to take her children away from her. She had a brief relationship with another man and ended up pregnant with a girl. She said that he told her he would marry her and help her raise the boys if she put this baby up for adoption. She told me she regretted that decision and always wondered where she was and if she was ok, but between her father’s threats, her alcoholism and the baby’s father, she felt she had no choice. Not long after placing her daughter up for adoption, the father left. She ended up with a man named Charlie. He was much older than her, but she referred to him as the love of her life. I had heard some fairly horrible memories from Mike and his brother about how abusive she was to Charlie, but she didn’t talk about that, not with me any way. She spoke of how good he was to her. They had a daughter together as well and she said that baby was her father’s pride and joy. Sadly, seven years later, Charlie died. I think the sadness of losing him was the last straw for her. She was a sad, angry and bitter woman who couldn’t let go of the memories that haunted her. 

A few years ago she spoke to me more about when she gave her first daughter up for adoption. Originally she didn’t take much responsibility for her decision, but this was different. She really started opening up and being honest about some things. She expressed her happiness that Mike and I loved each other and had a family who we loved and they loved us. She was so surprised at how much our family had grown over the years. I know she would’ve liked to have known our kids, but I truly believe she understood why we did what we did in keeping them away. 

In 2020, her son Wayne passed away, this shattered her heart. They had a fairly dysfunctional relationship, but there was no doubt they loved each other and were codependent on each other. After Wayne died, I visited her a little more often. Our conversations became more honest and transparent. I thank God for that time with her as it resulted in forgiveness and healing. I still believe she trusted the wrong people in her life, right up until the end. I truly believe she’d still be here today if she hadn’t. Jeanette’s life saddens me, so many years of heartache for her, but in the last year or so of her life, she also got closer to her youngest daughter, her grandchildren and she adored her great grandson. I am glad she had happiness in the relationships she reconciled in the last couple years of her life. 

I’ve written before about her funeral services, or lack there of and the disrespect and abuse that was shown to her in the postmortem. It still hurts. I hope and believe she is in Heaven, finally feeling truly forgiven of her sins of the past. Finally with a God who loves her unconditionally. Finally in a place she will not feel physical or emotional pain, no lies, no manipulation and no being taken advantage of. In two months, her first death anniversary will be here and there is still no marker on her grave because of those she appointed to look out for her used it for their personal gain, and not what it was intended for. In 2 days it will be the 5th anniversary of her son’s passing, he too has no marker. I know those things mean nothing to them now, but I think it would be nice if Mike, his youngest sister and her children could have a place to go “talk” to them. If the things that were left at the gravesite by those who loved her, were not tampered with or replaced, I think her memory could still be honored. Her memory could also be honored if her eldest granddaughter would be the kind of person her Memeré believed she could be, by returning the sentimental things to those who should have them. One of her granddaughters spent quality time with her at the nursing home, they colored together. All this granddaughter asked for after Jeannette’s death, was the coloring books her and her Mem shared. They have no monetary value, but are a memory this granddaughter cherishes. The oldest granddaughter will not return these items. It’s selfish and hurtful and I am sure Jeannette would want them to be with the one she colored them with. A portion of Jeannette’s ashes were to be shared amongst some of her children and grandchildren, yet her youngest grandson was also overlooked. He wanted the ashes that were supposed to go to him, but again, the granddaughter slighted her own brother. Even the funeral home was never paid because Jeanette’s eldest son and eldest granddaughter misused her funds. It just disgusts me to know after the traumatic life this woman endured, her memory is still being disrespected.

I have been praying for a heart of forgiveness for these people who have hurt her, lied to her, manipulated, caused separation amongst the family, and for decisions they’ve made that ultimately resulted in her early demise, but it’s hard, especially because the disrespect continues. I know their despicable behavior bothers Mike as well and he not being a healthy man, should not have to feel the stress the situation causes. With so much hurt and anger surrounding these events, I don’t think any of us have really been able to grieve the loss of her properly. Writing these things helps me sort my own feelings. 

Despite all the hardships she endured, she had a strength that can’t be ignored. She was a hard worker, both as an employee and at life. Life was tough on her, but she carried on. I will always admire her resilience. I may never understand the depths of her struggles but I’m thankful for the lessons she taught Mike about survival and resilience because I truly think he got her grit which helps him to keep fighting his illnesses when the odds are stacked against him. 

“She stood in the storm and when the wind did not blow her away, she adjusted her sails.” ~Elizabeth Edwards