My mother died almost two years ago, but the chronological time often has no relationship to my healing. Some days I am accepting, other days the agony knocks the wind out of me. As the mother of a five year old, I find that most days I am aware not so much that my mom is gone, but aware of all that she is missing. I watched her grandparent my nieces and nephews and I know what a devoted and involved grandma she was. So, I know how much joy she would be experiencing watching my son grow. I know how much laughter and comraderie we would be sharing. The hard part is it leaves me alone to reflect on the differences (good, bad and humorous) between her and me as parents and as people. It is difficult to be the only one on the inside of an inside joke meant to be shared between two people.
The main difference is that I try to be truthful in accordance with the Noble Eightfold Path of Buddhism and by extension to model right intention and right action. My mom on the other hand, was not so much a stickler for the truth as she was a ready and quick wit. Which, by comparison, means that I am a bit of a stick-in-the-mud and she was a stand-up comedian. An example would be when my son asks, “Where do babies come from?” I might answer, “Mommies’ tummies.” My mother would have said (to a five year old) “God puts two people with poor decision making skills together and you get a baby.” When my son asks, “What would happen if I put my finger too close to the fire?” I say, “Your skin will get burned, hurt very badly and take a long time to heal.” My mom’s response would have been, “20,000 years of genetic encoding will have failed.”
My first day of kindergarten was catastrophic, a tale for another day, but I came home in tears just devastated and unwilling to return. I was sobbing so hard that I could only barely get words out. I managed to tell my mom…”Th-th-th-they a-aa-all laughed at meeee!” In her infinite wisdom and insight (and a lifetime of living with our shared klutzy gene) she calmly and astutely said, “At you, with you…it’s all in your perspective. Tomorrow (when something similar will inevitably happen again) you just take a bow and then laugh with them.” Many of my mother’s comments were tasty morsels meant to be enjoyed in the moment, but this is advice that has served me my entire life. The ability to occasionally step back, laugh at myself a little and just try to enjoy the journey.
My son’s first day of kindergarten was picture perfect. He had already visited his beautiful, inviting and stimulating classroom at a very loving and compassionate Montessori school. There was a little bit of apprehension when it was time for me to leave him at school, but he was bubbling with joy and lots of news to share when I picked him up. He knew one of his classmates from preschool and he made five new friends on his first day. He is boisterous, intelligent, charismatic and beautiful and so much like my mother that I know they would be reveling in secrets and shared treasures. I tried to incorporate her sense of style, generosity and flair for occasion by bringing some celebratory touches to commemorate his successful first day of school. I bought him a new book about a dragon at school, wrapped it up as a gift, we went on a lunch date out at a favorite restaurant together and I just gushed over his big new accomplishment. Just what I thought my mom would have done for him. I enjoyed our celebration with a melancholy heart, knowing I was a poor substitute for a grandma and knowing how much she would have really loved being here for this and for all of these cherished moments.
I am very sorry to hear about your mother, I think I would have liked her. No, I know I would have liked her by the where do babies come from and the finger near the flame comment.
ReplyDeleteI lost my mother about two years ago as well, although I doubt our situations are alike. I was 60, my mother 86 and suffering from lung cancer and Alzheimers. Her passing was blessing. To be honest, my mother and I had a rather unhappy relationship. She hated my wife, I love my wife. Well there you have it. Where there could have been joy, there was unhappiness, mean comments, angry departings, and periods where I did not speak to her for months. When she got older I had take care of her during the various recoveries from some traumas. I would be cooking her dinner and she say "You know I have never cared for your wife." Well gee no kidding Ma...I sort of figured that out over the past 30 some odd years of meanness and nastiness. Well, she was my mother, and although I came to not like her very much, I still loved her, and I still grieve for her loss. I don't know I guess what I am saying is grieve for your mother and thank God she was the good woman she was. Cherish her memory, some of mine are not so good.
Very nice post. I have been snooping around here and enjoyed the posts of all three of you. You all write very well.
Sextant,
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry about the vast amount of time it has taken me to reply. I am the luddite of our trio and am slowly being dragged into possibly the last century. I really enjoy your comments. To be truthful, my mother and I had a very challenging relationship and I am one of those indefatigable optimists who always look on the bright side. I thought one day when I was also a parent, we would work out all of our issues as well. It didn't happen that way and I am left with what we had, for what is was being all that there will be and I try to remember mostly only the good parts. Thanks for reading!! Cas