Wisdom Teeth Weekend

At the beginning of October in my freshman year of college, I had my wisdom teeth removed by students at the University of Florida College of Dentistry. It was a disaster. After the surgery I was completely unconscious for hours and the doctors couldn’t revive me. (I was simply asleep; not in any sort of danger or anything.) They called mom and she drove the hundred miles to come get me and take me home. When I finally woke up the next day and found myself at home, I was very upset and felt like I’d been kidnapped from college. Of course it was ridiculous of me to think that; I’d probably do the same thing she did in that situation. But we ended up having a huge fight about it, which was undoubtedly much worse because I was stoned on painkillers. This is the letter she wrote me the next day.

10/4/91
David,

Hi. Are you OK?

I swear, I don’t know what happens to us, how two people who love each other so much can get so nuts. I guess I have to learn to be more of a friend like you said. I’ll try, honest. Just be patient with me — maybe you need to learn that and a little more compassion.

I don’t know. Sometimes there is such goodness in your eyes and you are so kind – to everyone. Maybe G      was right (heaven help me – did I say that?) and you’re too defensive sometimes. Probably because I’m too hard on you (and Jenny – sometimes). I don’t mean to be. It’s probably because I’m so compulsive myself.

A lot of times, I don’t say the things I really feel — like everyone, I guess. Although, I think you and I have always had something special, a rare rapport (I should be a writer). I’m proud of you, of the person you are, most of the time, objectively. But, I’m still your mother, and I still hate the smoking, etc., and I can’t stop doing that.

I honestly don’t want to control you; I would rather just be there for you when you need me. And I’m afraid you’ll decide you don’t need me. That’s probably pretty normal, huh?

By the way, I hate to see you cry. And I hate U     D  ’s “family” shit – he’s too far off the wall. Or maybe he’s just in TV-MOVIE land when he gets started. And he never sees anything he’s doing wrong – like yelling and screaming at a 70-year-old woman. (I’m sorry I asked you if you yelled at Nana. She came out and was shaking and said you had been arguing. I’m very protective of her — she can’t take care of herself as well as you or I can even though a lot of people look to her. Again, I’m sorry – I should have known better.)

And I know you were on medication and not at your best, in spite of what you may think. I really blew it; I just wanted to help, and I let my own insecurities get in the way.

I did not decide to take you home until the doctor said I should, and it hurts like hell that you believe otherwise. But, I won’t say it again. I just knew you would believe otherwise. And that hurts. Anyway, I should have been secure enough to be your mother for a couple of days. I would have done it for anyone else. But, with you, I was (believe it or not) trying to be sensitive to your independence and feeling pretty awful for being late, and needing your approval. Long way to say I’m sorry, but I know I behaved badly. Just, please, always remember that I really am trying. You and Jenny mean the world to me.

I’ll always love you, and what I said in the kitchen last night will haunt me forever – the forbidden words, words I can never take back, spoken in hurt anger and hurting you. Please forgive me, even though I may never forgive myself.

Take care of yourself, David — you’re doing OK so far.

Love,
Mom