What can be said about the woman who has been in my life from my first breath? My first heartbeat? The woman whose voice I first heard, long before I ever saw the sun shining...
My mother. We have a very complicated relationship. It has taken a lifetime for us to understand one another. I think the biggest problem is that we are so much alike, we just could not see past the obvious. I have often heard my mother speak through my own mouth! Things she would say to me, expressions she would use - lol - ones which would drive me crazy now pass through my lips! I look at pictures of myself and know that not only am I the mirror of my father - but I am also the mirror of my mother!
How blessed am I to be the legacy of a such beautiful soul?
I have inherited so much from one of the strongest women I have been blessed to know. Integrity. Strength. Nurturing. Mothering. Intelligence. The Good Lord knows that Anyone who has EVER met my mother knows that she is one of the smartest people walking the face of this earth!! If I had a dollar for every person who has said that to me..... well, I would be rich beyond words. In fact, I already am! Not in monetary measure, but through my heart, mind, soul and .... if I do say so myself .... my gift of words. (Yes, I immodestly claim this!) :-)
In all of my writings of my life-long search for my father .... I have been shamefully remiss in not speaking to the person who has been in my life - for my entire life! My beautiful mother!!!
For every school play, recital, every Christmas, birthday, sitting at my bedside for every cold, sitting in the hospital with me for every operation - all 11 of them!! Including when my appendix ruptured, and my mother stayed - day and night at the hospital for weeks, learning how to drain my incision, so she could do it instead of the constant shift of nurses, so that I would be in the least amount of pain possible. Or when I had my three eye operations, and she stayed every night - watching over me that I would not touch my eyes, and so I did not have to wear the straight jacket at night. My mother stood guard over me.
For helping to raise my beautiful daughter, for picking me up when I had fallen. Lord knows I have fallen many times.
For supporting me when I searched for my dad, when I found him, while I watched his health fail ... and when I lost him - mom was there.
Now, don't get me wrong, it was not always smooth sailing. How many mothers and daughters can claim this? Certainly there has been much turbulence in the relationship between my mother and I, but in the end I know in my soul that any time I picked up that phone - she answered. Any time I was in need, she was there. Not only for me, but also for my sisters, my brother, my daughter. And our friends.
I cannot count how many holiday meals mom would ask how many "extra" would be attending. lol She knew that each of her children would inevitably bring along a friend who needed to be fed. Needed a loving home and a home-cooked meal. Needed a warm, safe place to BE - during whatever the occasion was. She never - EVER - turned away a hungry soul. I am proud to say that this is another gift I have inherited from my mom. Her generosity of spirit. A gift I have passed on to my own daughter. A legacy passed on from my beloved Granny, through my mother to me, to my daughter - and I know it will be passed on to my grandchildren.
Like every daughter, I could pick from many, many stories to describe my mom ... but there is one that I think really captures the truth of our love for one another. Beyond any bickering, beyond any misunderstanding, beyond any turbulence, the true essence of the love we share.
Christmas 1974, My mother was in her 2nd trimester with my sister, she was sooooo sick!! For the only time I can remember, she just was not able to 'do' Christmas. There was no tree, no trimmings, gifts were not wrapped. No turkey dinner. Mom was so upset that she just could not put on the Christmas that I had been use to. That I would not have the twinkling lights and everything else that goes along with a 6 year old's idea of the holiday.
Meanwhile, as school wound up for the holidays, my teacher was taking down all of the classroom decorations, just as she had gotten to a cut-out Christmas Tree, made of dark green corrugated cardboard. With a big yellow star atop, and cutout decorations all over it. My teacher had asked if anyone wanted it and I jumped up. "I DO!!" To this day I am certain that my teacher saw something in my eyes that day, sensing my need - my desperation ..... she smiled and said I could have it. I could take it home!
After school, I carried that tree home - it was nearly as tall as I was .. trudging through the snow and all that winter had to offer. I burst through the front door and bounded into my mom's room ... "LOOK WHAT I HAVE MOMMY!!!" as I proudly held up the tree! I then raced to tear off my coat and boots, and grabbed the tape, hanging the tree in the corner of the living room. Catty-cornered - one side of the branches taped to one wall - the other side of the tree fixed to the other wall. It was brilliant!!
Christmas Day, I got my gifts, it was not the way other children got theirs, and not the way we usually did ours, but we did what we had to do. We sat on mom's bed, and behind me were big brown shopping bags with rope handles, inside were my games, and dollies, etc .... I would reach behind myself and pull out one gift at a time.
It was great!!
The funny thing is ... years later, even to this day, my mom will tell this story and she carried such tremendous guilt,, she was heartbroken by the paper tree, devastated that she was not able to do all of the trimmings for me that year. I told her that I did not get the paper tree for me, I had wanted it for her. Because I could see - even at such a young age that she was heartbroken, that she was disappointed and felt she had let me down, so I wanted to get that tree - for my mom!!
How ironic?
In the end, this is one of my favorite childhood memories. Saddened that my mom was unwell through her pregnancy, but joyful that we were together during Christmas. The tree and glitter and wrapping didn't matter. And my heart was full - my mother was so worried for her young daughter - that she would have a good Christmas .... and the only thing that mattered to that six year old little girl was that her mother had that paper tree.
Needless to say, I could go on and on and on. I could tell story after story. Some of them heartwarming. Some of them a bit more colorful. But in the end of it all ... I know that I am blessed.
Thank you mom, for all of your sacrifices. Thank you for your love, your courage, your example, your strength, you conviction, your compassion, your laughter, your tenderness, your devotion ... and the countless other gifts you have shared with me through my lifetime.
With my every breath,
With each beat of my heart,
I love you mom,
Beyond measure.
-Laura
