That dollar bill you sent me,
It came on Monday with the mail,
It reminded me of my birthday
And how you remembered it always without fail.
I think you tried to show me
How much you cared with that card,
And thank God I got it,
When my life was getting hard.
We sailed in and out of each other’s lives,
Capturing moments here and there,
Never letting down those unforgiving walls,
To show the depth of our care.
But when it mattered most
Is when you said good-bye
We knew we both had closure
As we both embraced and cried.
As you sail to heaven,
With that beautiful smile on your face,
I hear the sounds of your laughter,
It fills me up in that empty space.
Forever I will love you Mom,
Forever I will care,
The blessing of you in my life
Is a legacy I proudly wear.
I spent most
of my life hating my mother for what she wasn’t instead of loving her for what
she was. I don’t think it fully hit me
till she died. Now there is just a bit of an empty space where a lot of good
memories could have been filled. Coulda,
shoulda, woulda. Moments that passed in
the wind silently without a lot of forethought.
I was raised
by my biological mom for a few years, than an in-house nanny for a few more and
then a step-mother for most of my remaining growing up years. I think I was
pretty clear where I stood with all of them but my real mother. I felt like, to the nanny, I was a paycheck
but I grew to be someone she loved to
and to my step-mom, I was part of a package deal. When she married
my dad, she tried to love me but there was always something that blocked the
way. And to my real mom, Margie, I never quite knew where I stood. It was
easier to believe all of the ugly things said about her by many than to figure
out who she was on my own, understand her life choices and accept the fact that
maybe, inspite of her demons, she loved me.
This blog
isn’t, in many ways, about my mother’s life but about a daughter’s
understanding of acceptance of one’s mother.
We moms, speaking from experience, are not perfect but yet we try to measure up
to this immeasurable stick of expectations we put on ourselves and society
feeds into. My friend recently said to me that over half the people she has met
in her life came from dysfunctional families. She feels the number is closer to
75% plus. America is flooded with
families struggling to survive, meet the demands of life in these complex times
and along the way, try to maintain a semblance of normalcy. It is a hard road to tow.
For me, I
have learned we are all complex beings motivated and touched by all kinds of
stimuli, some we can control and some we can’t.
We do the best we can do with what we are given and try to make up for
the difference. Acceptance of ourselves
as well as for others for their short-comings is critical to happiness. Accepting someone else’s misgivings is a
closer step to God, fulfillment in a sense.
It shows a depth of compassion and understanding. It is the goal we should all aspire to
practice.
With my
mother, she lived a troubled life. She had some mental issues that, in her day,
were never addressed properly and thus, she was judged by, yes, even me by an
impossible standard to reach. As she
aged and I learned of her many roadblocks, disappointments and weaknesses I saw
a beautiful soul that was just trying to do the best she could do with what she
had. I am not so sure any of us are that different than my mom, trying to get
by on what we know to be true. Her truths were just jaded by life’s experiences
to her and her processing of those challenges.
She never got the help she really needed till far too late in her life.
When she finally got it, was diagnosed and treated, the beauty of my mother
came out. Along with that, beautiful
petals of the chapters of her life became evident, a true understanding of who
she was and an outpouring of her life’s pitfalls.
I am not
writing to share those publicly because my mother was a proud woman. She
wouldn’t want those shared. But she would want others to know that living a
troubled life lends itself to making unhealthy choices. Those choices formulate
the story of your life and those around you, and yes, even those omitted from
the chapters of your life. Loss of time
with loved ones, and losing a connection to those that should matter in your
life simply because of circumstances is a tough pill to swallow. Too often,
priorities become jumbled with the tedious parts of living and by the wayside
goes the things God would want us to focus on. We must take these lessons and share.
What I have
learned, through my mother’s death, is the pricelessness of moments. I am grateful that her and I had the
sweetness of our memories to keep us both warm inside as mother and daughter
now that she is gone. I am saddened we
didn’t have more. But, I feel blessed
for the closure we both got and the unconditional love we experienced in the
end. I saw the beauty in God’s creation
in my mom, finally but in some sense, a little too late. It is far gone the
chance to build more memories with my mother. We both stood in the way of that
happening for complex reasons at the time that no longer make sense.
I pray that
in reading this you will learn to accept your parents for who they are instead
of what you wish them to be. Don’t make excuses for not making them a priority
either because you are their legacy and they must know they matter. And
remember that it is only through acceptance and understanding can we find unconditional
love.
Click here for Memories of Margie
