We all hurt. Mothers hurt daughters, daughters hurt mothers. It is always so wonderful to me to have time with LB's parents and have them open up to me like I am one of their kids who can sit without judgment. It is also fascinating to me how much LB is like a Max 2.0. He is definitely a new and improved version of his pops, but still so very much like his dad. And hey, that's okay. It is also so sad to me that Max's insecurities are what drive people, especially his daughter, away. You can see the trying in his eyes and on his heart. He just wants to be loved more than anything. He just wants to be seen. He just wants to be heard. I can totally understand that his ways of accomplishing this may rub people the wrong way at times, but hey, that's okay. He is transporting his own hurts and pains into this life and dealing with them the best he can.
Mary, on the other hand, is kindest, most gentle soul on the planet. These two days of laying in bed with her watching TV have given me so much strength. She trusts me enough to cry about not being close to her daughter because of her husband, and yet respects my role in their lives enough to be gentle when talking about the pain. She allows me the space to practice my brother's eulogy and cries right along with me when I give it. She also lets me paint her nails, because, hey, that's okay too. Every woman wants her nails to look nice, even if she doesn't ask.
And tonight, as we were all sacking in for the night, Max calls from the bedroom, "Hey Treana."
"If you don't have other plans, I would be honored to walk you down the aisle."
And even if I choose to walk by myself, and even if I choose to walk with my girlfriends, and even if I choose to run down the aisle, he'll say, hey, that's okay too.