Rifts

My mother passed away in 1999.  She was the one who held the family together, more specifically, my sisters and I.  Mom was also the keeper of the family “heirlooms” and she had quite the collection from relations past not to mention her own love of antiques which was gathered and cherished through her lifetime.  The task of sorting this cornucopia of objects was daunting in and of itself but was further complicated by the strained relationship between my sisters and me.  Mom was also an accomplished artist, and the distribution of her fabulous artwork provided another obstacle, and one that in fact created one of the greatest resentments. 

          My older sister is the only one out of the three of us who has children.  When it came time to divide mom’s possessions, she was not considering my mother’s wish that we split it between the three of us, rather she kept including her children in the distribution, especially when it came to the art.  Phrases such as ‘…since you don’t have kids…’ were tossed around in profusion.  Resentments grew.   

            I wanted to give a painting to a dear friend of my mom’s who I knew would absolutely cherish it.  I had no qualms taking a painting my sisters rejected as one that was not to their liking.  It would have been part of my share of the paintings, so what I did with it was none of their concern.  The decision was made, but when I went to give it to Naome, my older sister saw the price tag which my mom had placed on the back and reneged on our deal.  The really sad part of this, is that our friend was present and witnessed the argument which took place. From then on every other piece my mom had completed was inspected for monetary value rather than suiting of taste.  

There was one painting which I had planned to purchase from my mom to give to my best friend in the whole wide world.  Mom was not through enjoying it herself, but promised that I would have it when she was.  My sister had no objection to my choice of the Angel painting until she found out that it was to be given away.  I was so disgusted with the hostility which we were swimming in that I told my sister that she could have whatever she wanted, except that particular painting, I was through arguing.  I offered to purchase it, but instead forfeited my share of the artwork.  I also managed to secure one small painting which was smuggled out behind backs. 

The Angel hangs in a place of honor on my BFF’s wall, and my mom’s BFF Naome, did indeed treasure her friend’s work until she too passed.  I know my mom was smiling down on us as I gave them their gifts of Pudy.