Bumps on the Road of Life
Both my parents had psychoanalysis during the first years of their marriage.
I find a letter Bea wrote in 1979 about its benefits: “When Nick was two and we moved back to Washington, I was forced in the move to give up an interesting, lucrative job and felt so depressed that I decided to get a job to pay for more analysis. It seemed because of my sexual difficulties that it was more important for me to try through analysis to get over them …”
My parents were married 56 years. Bea’s return to a more distant past that doesn’t include Paul is puzzling to me, so I feel pleased when she tells me he has been one of her guests.
“Daddy’s here,” Bea says simply.
“Harry? You mean your father?”
“No, Daddy.”
“Paul?”
“Yes.”
I realize I am living an unusual experience. Not every daughter gets to accompany her mother on this final journey. We are weaving our way down the road of life, towards a light shining in the distance …
I find a letter Bea wrote in 1979 about its benefits: “When Nick was two and we moved back to Washington, I was forced in the move to give up an interesting, lucrative job and felt so depressed that I decided to get a job to pay for more analysis. It seemed because of my sexual difficulties that it was more important for me to try through analysis to get over them …”
My parents were married 56 years. Bea’s return to a more distant past that doesn’t include Paul is puzzling to me, so I feel pleased when she tells me he has been one of her guests.
“Daddy’s here,” Bea says simply.
“Harry? You mean your father?”
“No, Daddy.”
“Paul?”
“Yes.”
I realize I am living an unusual experience. Not every daughter gets to accompany her mother on this final journey. We are weaving our way down the road of life, towards a light shining in the distance …
posted by Alexandra Grabbe at 5:37 AM
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