I lost my mom to QAnon

My mom remains optimistic that the grand plan is still on, that good will prevail, that one day I’ll come around to her truths.

“Just wait and see,” she says. “Just wait and see…”

I wish I could offer some evidence showing that the gulf between us might be narrowing, that my love, persistence, and collection of facts might be enough to draw her back into a reality we share, and that when our wager about the storm comes due in a few months, she’ll realize that the voices she trusts have been lying to her. But I don’t think that will happen. I think new voices will emerge, new theories will replace the old ones, and new leaders will take up the fight with new deceptions to weaponize. What can I do but try to limit the damage? Send my mom movie recommendations to occupy the free time she instead spends on conspiracy research. Shift our conversations to the common ground of cooking recipes and family gossip. Raise objections when her beliefs nudge her toward dangerous decisions.

I no longer inhabit the delusion that our divergence is temporary. Though I once feared our partnership was doomed unless I pulled my mom out of the current, I now understand our debates as marks of the very bond I thought was disintegrating. No matter how far she believes I’ve fallen into the deep state, how hard I fight for the forces of evil, how imminent the grand plan’s rapture, my mom will be there on the other side of the line putting in a good word for me with the angels and saints, trying to save me from damnation. And those are the two realities we live in.