The Big Lie

The last time I talked to my mother, I told her a lie.  I know, we all lie to our moms now and then even when we are little kids.  Nobody wants to admit they broke the ceramic owl (sorry mom) and no one is going to admit to eating the last cookie, especially if your mother is a midnight snacker  who goes looking for sweets during the night like my mom did.  But the lie I told was a different kind of lie.

When I let it slip out of my mouth with tears welling in my eyes, I told myself that I was telling that lie to protect her.  After all, I couldn't have her going to her grave believing I was anything but okay.  She was so weak, but she knew me, held my hand as I sat on the arm of the chair beside her and started telling her how all my kids were doing.  She asked about each one of them, and I assured her they were all doing well.  We talked about Hannah's job, Sylia's wedding and Charlie's new school and love of Batman.  She said she wanted to buy him more Batman stuff but couldn't find any whenever she looked for it. Then she asked me very sincerely, looking me straight in the eye with whatever strength she could muster, "How are you doing? Are you okay?"

"Yes," I said.  "I'm fine!"
She looked at me unconvinced.
"I'm happy," I said with a big smile.

I saw the concern in her face melt away as she said, "Good. I've been worried about you since you lost your house.  I'm glad you're doing alright."

"I am." I said.  And then I changed the subject to her banana pudding and the time I called her for the recipe.

I have replayed that conversation in my head a million times over the last 2 weeks.  I sent my mother out of this world believing a lie, and although I would have rather her leave this world without a worry for me, I still feel kind of guilty for lying to her.  Maybe the guilt comes from knowing that in that moment, I was lying to myself as much as I was to her.  I couldn't say out loud that I'm not happy.  If I said it out loud I would have to accept it as the truth.  Sometimes clinging to a delusion is just the only way we can cope.

I don't know whether it was wrong to lie to my mother that one last time. Part of me is relieved that I did, another part of me feels sick about it.  The only thing that's for sure, is that I can't change it now.  All I can do now is make what I said to her the truth.  I suppose that's the only way I can set the record straight with her now, and the only way I'll find peace with myself as well.