Years later, when I was married and about 34 (my mom died when she was 43 and I was 22), Kevin and I were renovating yet another house. It was something we never thought we would get into, but this was our 5th house. He was tearing apart the walls when he found an extremely scratched up, tarnished and damaged quarter. I need to back up. The people who we bought the house from had it payed off. Apparently he was an abusive alcoholic and they were divorcing. He had only had our payout monies for about a week when he was drinking and driving and killed himself on the Sherwood Park Freeway. Poof. Gone. It was eerie knowing that he was gone. The person we just bought our house from. Who finally had all this money and freedom from his wife. Was able to make such a mess of things. As humans, we are very good at this.
Back to the quarter. I took a close look at it. The year on it was 1943...the SAME year as the quarter I found the day of my mother's death. I had yet to attach meaning to the first quarter, but this find explained it all. I went to the sacred spot on my dresser where I kept my shooter glass, with a decorative 'rose' that i used once to put in my mothers hair (just prior to her death), and the first quarter. The shooter glass represented the alcoholism, the rose represented my mother, and the quarter still lacking significance. But not any longer. There was no lightening bolt feelings with this discovery, but it was intriguing none-the-less. And the year...1943. My mom was 43 when she died. It all made sense now.
The quarters, as you may have already figured out, represented my father. He threw them at me whenever I did a chore. The horrible shape of them symbolized my mother's abuse and his inner turmoil dealing with the death of both of his parents before he was 6 and a brother when he was only slightly older. The first quarter actually has a good size nick missing out of it. This represents all the torture my mother endured, both physical and emotional and perhaps the emotional pain that he endured leaving behind a very sad, unhealed man. His sadness becoming physical and he began taking it out on my mother. One heartache becoming two. He never healed. Every Christmas was the worst as he took out the funeral pictures of his brother Andy and cried. He would talk of not having any parents. Then the drinking, then the rampage.
The man of this house where I found the second very disfigured quarter, was also an abuser and was also an alcoholic. I am not sure why I found this second quarter. Maybe simply to allow me to figure out my ongoing life puzzle. I now have 2 quarters in my shot glass, with the rose. Now the whole Quebec experience took on a whole different meaning. What seemed as just a bizarre event at the time was hardly that at all! It was a complex symbolism of the intricate relationship between my mother and father. A story that continues to unfold as I put more and more pieces together. A story that helps to heal me and give me strength and understanding to our life on earth. That it is so unimportant compared to the bigger picture. That God is so much bigger than we can ever be. That God can communicate with us on earth through different means. That God can use these things to heal, and empower and build our trust and confidence in Him. I continue to be in awe of how God works in my life.
Oh, and of course, God is also a comedian and pays attention to details. The girl I was with at the phone in Quebec. Her name was Rose. “The Rose” was the song my mother listened to constantly. She would lie there and rock her head to that song. Of course now, if I ever hear that song, I am immediately brought to tears.
No comments:
Post a Comment