blame Canada

Here's a rundown of the trip so far:

Arrived late Friday night.

Saturday morning, Graham (my dad's old colleague) picked us up with his girlfriend, Virginia (I had never met a Virginia before then) and drove us up to Whistler. On the way, he picked up a friend of his, Emma, who lives on Vancouver Island. Emma was showing Graham (and Virginia) a house in Pemberton that Graham is thinking about purchasing and fixing up. They dropped my mom and I off in Whistler and we spent the day walking around, shopping, listening to all the different accents. It got really cold and started snowing hard at one point, so we hunkered down in a coffee shop for a few hours, then when the three of them came back, we all went out to dinner.

The drive back to the hotel was nuts; snow everywhere. Graham and Emma talked about film -- apparently, Graham has financed a movie coming out soon with Darryl Hannah (it's called Vice) and Emma is also very into the film industry, so it was fun to hear them talk about it.

When we got back, I was trying to get on the computer and decided to go downstairs to the business center. I'd forgotten my room key, so I came back up and caught my mother crying. I asked if she'd waited till I left to start, and she said yes. She fell asleep while I messed around on MySpace, then I told her I was going downstairs for a glass of wine. She said she'd come with, so we went to the lounge.

As we're sitting there, drinking our wine, these two men sitting across from us ask to buy us a drink. We say no, we're almost done and we don't need another, but my mom said we'd come over and finish our wine with them (this all started because the drunker, older man told me we were beautiful. Aw. how sweet). I know the older man was 67 cause he asked me to guess his age and I guessed correctly. I wasn't altogether comfortable but I thought it might be good for my mom to get some attention of that nature. They end up buying us another drink and we're sitting and chatting (Dirty Old Man telling me he has six kids with three different women, he didn't treat any of the mothers right because he was too busy making money, etc. etc.). I was starting to get tired so I paid our server separately; not too long after that, they started being the typical drunks, not wanting to leave when it's time for them to leave, harassing the server, telling him to go back to China (he was Asian). I was like, "Mom, I paid, let's go," so we did.

I woke up this morning with a hangover, surprise surprise. My hangovers generally take the form of stomach versus head, so I really could have used some alternative medicine at that point. If you catch my drift. We went and grabbed breakfast, then had all day to kill, so we walked down to the Granville Island water bus and went over there. It was super cute, like a whole island full of markets and cute stores and fun galleries, it was just a blast. We made a friend in Crush, he was a flaming gay guy, half Canadian, half American. He was awesome. I had a BC salmon roll which was delicious. I'd been a little worried that I wouldn't be able to handle the water bus, but my super-greasy breakfast took care of that fear (yay, country-fried steak and eggs!).

On our way back from the island, we stopped at Davis Street, which is the gay street in Vancouver (literally). We shopped some more and then left, I got some cute clothes and some new books. I tried to keep my mom from spending money on me ... she talks to me about how she hasn't gotten last year's tax refund yet, she really needs it because she was counting on it and she doesn't know what she's going to do if it doesn't come in. I know I'm not the best with money and I don't have a ton, so I spirited my purchases away from her whenever possible. But it's hard, she's so used to buying me stuff and I've only in recent years learned to put my foot down and not waver if it's something I know I don't need, because if I say "yes, it's cute," she'll buy it for me. So, mean what you say and say what you mean is the lesson there.

So overall, it's been a fun, awesome trip, except for one aspect. I really, really, REALLY wish my mother would get into therapy. She needs it. I don't mean that in a negative, mean way -- I just mean she is having serious trouble letting go, particularly letting go of all the craziness in Australia surrounding my dad's death. I'm not going into the whole story now, suffice to say that the hospital put in one stent when they needed four and there has been crazy hassle with the bills and the Consulate and everything. Some of her Aussie friends have been sending her messages saying things like, "Paul would want you to be moving on and enjoying life," Pollyanna shit like that. And it really bothers her. She says, "Paul also didn't want to leave when he did. How would they know what Paul wants?" I see her point. I think these people are just trying to offer support and empathy the best way they know how. It just happens that they're going about it entirely the wrong way, but the intention is good.

The thing that's been bothering me is, my mother has this serious aversion to all things Aussie now that everything has gone down the way it has. Last night she was saying that if Marcus (the dude bringing the ashes over) says anything about how great Australia is, she's going to correct him. I asked her how her feelings would change if some of the people -- who have been all gung-ho about how great the hospital and the health care system down there is -- would acknowledge that the hospital seriously fucked up and the system wasn't perfect. (Someone at one point already said, "mistakes happen," re: the death, which for those reading, is NOT the right thing to say, remotely, whatsoever.) My point was that I don't think that other people's opinions changing is going to make her feel better. But she thinks it is. When we were on Davis Street, she heard someone in a shop (from Perth) speaking, and someone else saying how much they enjoyed Australia when they were there. And she said she just felt this awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. She says she knows she shouldn't feel that way about all things Australian, but she can't help it. This seemed like the appropriate time for me to bring up post-traumatic stress disorder and the therapies available; she said she'd been to one or two therapy sessions and they made her feel worse. She doesn't want to try again.

I feel like if she could let go of some of these feelings, it would be better for her. It is simply not healthy to be harboring dislike for an entire country based on one experience. I can see why she feels that way, but that doesn't mean it's good for her. I don't think my mother is the most forgiving person on the planet, and I've made peace with that because it has affected my life. I also have realized why I have a tendency to withhold information from people, even when that might not be strictly necessary. I found out that she had breast cancer and they did a surgery on it when she had her nose thingy done last year or in late '06, I can't remember. That's kind of something I think she should have shared with me sooner, I know she didn't want me to worry, but I need to know these things so I can tell my own doctor.

It's just so hard to watch someone I love so much go through what she's going through, while she's refusing to reach out for help or support. She thinks she has to do it all herself and she's trying to protect me and my brothers. I just really, really wish she would bite the bullet and get herself someone to talk to who can really help her work through these feelings and figure out where to go and what to do next. I think she feels lost, and I don't know how to help her any more than I have been, beyond playing therapist and asking her the same kinds of questions that Kathy would ask me. I don't know how much that helps, she might be modifying her answers based on what she thinks I need to hear. I just feel like there's something in her that's broken, and I can sense it, and I want badly to be able to fix it.

But, I can't.