Mom and I aren't very much alike. When
I was growing up, unlike a lot of little girls, I never wanted to be
my mom. I wanted to be my dad. He was outgoing and charming and
witty and people loved to have him around. He was a raconteur with a
wicked wit. He went off to work or out for an evening of fun and
came home with exciting stories to tell. Mom, well, she kept the
home fires burning, made sure he and we kids had a nice place to come
home to, and generally kept the peace. She managed whatever money
Dad brought home and found a way to make it cover everything we
needed. She cooked us wonderful meals and baked and sewed and
cleaned and nurtured. To me, her life looked like one of boredom,
subservience and drudgery. I wanted no part of it.
Of course, what I didn't realize then,
didn't even realize as a young woman, was that my mom led the life
she chose. She has always been a little shy and didn't want to be
out mixing with large groups of people or being the center of
attention. She loved my dad with a depth I can barely fathom: she
literally grieved herself nearly to death in the first year after he
died. She loved her four children deeply and had the wisdom to
accept each of us us as just who we are. When my brother Don left
home and went rambling around the country as a young man, she worried
about him, but she didn't fault him. She understood, perhaps better
than anyone, that this was just what he
needed to do. When each of my siblings went through a rough patch
with Dad as they transitioned into adulthood (a transition Dad never
handled well) she willingly played peacemaker because loved them all
and could understand both sides of the battle.
When I was a teenager and young adult,
she was already alone, but she selflessly made it easy for me to go
off and pursue my own dreams because she knew me well enought to know that
was the road to happiness for me. Different though we are, I never
doubted how very much she loved me and how proud she was of me. I
never felt like she thought I should be anything other than who I am.
Now that I'm in my 50's, I am finally
at a point in my life where I've chased external prizes long enough.
Though I still do rewarding work and still love to be social, there
is no higher priority in my life right now than finishing Sam's
upbringing so he can successfully achieve his dreams and find his
right path to adulthood; providing a safe and loving launching point
for Warren; and spending some quality decades with my best friend and
wonderful life partner, Bob. That means that I am FINALLY at the
point where I notice what a wonderful role model Mom is and has
always been. It might not have been a lesson I was ready to learn at
the time, but in my formative years she taught me everything I would
ever need to know about loving unconditionally, giving loved ones
the freedom to grow and thrive, and making sure that the people we
love know how much we love them. What a gift!
5 comments:
That is very thoughtful. We totally don't appreciate our moms when we're you. It's nice to reach a mellowing season and reflect on it all.
Nice. I think you've learned in the noblest way:
"By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is the noblest; second, by imitation, which is the easiest; third, by experience, which is the bitterest." -Confucius
@Shannon, hope you really meant when we're "young." Awfully strong indictment on me if not! ;)
@Ken, thanks. Clearly, I didn't have the good sense to learn by imitation -- never have been one to take the easy route!
Perhaps the best thing a mother can do is to allow a child to be as different from themselves as is humanly possible. I applaud a mother who is not determined to make you over in her image....
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