Mother obtained her first driver’s license in her mid-forties, after her children chauffeurs had left her nest. Father, twelve years older, had sustained a series of heart attacks with continuing ill health. Abhorring stasis, mother hit the road.

Limited neck mobility and vision in only one eye (due to macular degeneration), contributed to Mother’s unique driving methods. This include praying a lot as she zipped on the highway. Once on, with her need for speed, praying again, she zoomed into the fast lane. When it was time to exit, praying again, she managed to avoid truckers and accidents. I only wish I had partial of that kind of angelic protection.

As she lived in a rural area, my brother and I gave her instructions to stay on the back roads; a waste of our breath and concern.

In addition to flying on the highway, I managed to find out that multiple dents and scratches in her car were due to backing into mailboxes, going over curbs, parking lot mishaps, etc.

Then came the major accident. Mother, on a rural road, fell asleep at the wheel. Flipping her car, she slid through a field, into a small cemetery, knocking over several gravestones, finally coming to rest. Passersbys, terrified the gas tank would explode, unbuckled her seatbelt and helped her get out.

My brother and I received text pictures. Assuming we would be planning a funeral, we were quite shocked when she was released from emergency several hours later. Her response, “I guess I’ll have to rent a car.”

That was the end. My brother and I, having come to the decision that as long as she wasn’t endangering others, it wasn’t our responsibility. But now, feeling responsible (she could have caused major injuries to others as there were many cyclists and walkers along that road) her driving days were over. 

The task to tell her fell to me. Of all my siblings, I could stand up to Mother the best, as I had suffered her insults and abuses the most frequently and had learned, for my personal survival, to develop a thick skin, a shield of protection.

No amount of reasoning (property and people she could have damaged, etc.) as well as showing pictures of the car wreck could pierce her fierce determination. I had visited the mangled car, stood there in shock for a few minutes, and decided it would be too much for for her to see the actual damage. The only thing that slightly touched her was driving by the scene and seeing the gravestones she knocked over.

Her mind was set, she would keep on driving. Mother, a master manipulator, called siblings, one in particular, and lied about the situation (including my actions and words). This led to vicious texts and voice messages at all hours of the day and night.

It is my policy (having learned from my doctorate in marriage and family therapy) to avoid triangulation (stay out of the middle). Thus, I avoided individual phone messages and included all siblings on any emails or texts. For some communications, I also included Mother. This is to have a black and white reference, needed for extracting myself from abusive relationships.