So I finally talked to my mom on the phone after nearly a month of being incommunicado. The last time we talked, she was so incredibly upset: I had called to tell her that Joey and I had decided against moving somewhere sunny and warm near her in lieu of somewhere on the east coast that would be an easy commute to New York City.
Needless to say, she was devestated. In her opinion, the only way for her to begin healing over the loss of my brother is for her to be somehwere near me (if she had it her way, we’d be roommates). I can see her point of view, but I also feel that she is being selfish and a teeny bit manipulative to make me feel like it is my responsibility to save her from her grief. What about my grief? Joey has been here for me every day of the last four years — and through some pretty hairy situations. This isn’t to say my mom wouldn’t have been here for me, it’s just that circumstances have made the situation less than desirable between the two of us.
Should I feel guilty for not wanting to change my whole life, which I am pretty comforatble with, in order to help her feel better? I can’t help but feel I should. Should I be mad at Joey for wanting to be within reasonable closeness to what is probably the best city in the world for him to work in his chosen field (theatre)? I can’t even begin to bring myself to think like that.