Sunday, April 22, 2012

Mother Daughter Experiences

When my mother was my age, she was dead.  Dead on a roller coster of hope that she wouldn't be.  Dead just the same.  I was a pitiful  thing, trying to be so strong.   It was quick.  Spot on her arm.  Dead three months later.  Malanoma.  I thought I had a lot more time with her.  Time to get mellow and give  up all the things young women hold against their mothers.  But I didn't and I tried to make up for it by changing her wig before her "showing" and singing "Amazing Grace" at her wake.  Truth is, every mother's day I cry just a little bit.  Not so people can see, but in my heart, deep down where only the Gods know the truth. 

My mom was amazing.  Most mothers are.  Mine was snow white.  Black hair, beautiful with lots of little people who loved her.  She was a kindergarten teacher and beloved by many. When she died so suddenly, it was as if the fairy tale just quit.  It quit for the children, and it quit for me. 

We all, my dad, my brothers, all the grandchildren, and me, we all gave up on the fairy tale. 

It took years for us to be different.  We kept holding on to her.  She was so powerful in the "who we are."  I can't speak for my brothers, but I have gotten a grip.  Mom was amazing.  Mom was an energy force that moved us all to be greater than we expected us to be.  Unassuming as she she was, her power was magnificant.   

My daughter and I just had the most amazing mother daughter experience.  Mothers and daughters love each other from the very beginning, but  they grow apart. Apart becomes real.  Apart is important and critical.  But, coming together again is a gift.  Some never get there. 

We had our journey.  It was perfect.  Genes oozed.  Laughter rose.  Memories creeped into our skin.  All the stuff that was once creaky, didn't creak.  All the stuff that was once careful, wasn't. 

Mothers and daughters need these times.  We are to grow up and live happily ever after, but that propably won't happen.  We will probably have very hard times, times when our energy is sapped and our spirits are stripped of  color.  Times when crying takes more energy than we have and screaming just doesn't have room. 

I've been jealous of the mother/daughter teams that have come into my shop.  They seem so resolved.  My mother died before I forgave her for loving me enough to not like me sometimes.

I had no forgiveness journey with my mom, but my daughter and I  climbed in a beat old van and miles later, we knew the power of life with the connection of birth. 

Life starts out with lots of promise.  It's followed by some amazing journeys, some great, some perfectly terrible.  If you are blessed with a daughter, life is eased a bit.

It was my mom who led me to God.  She would say, " the week just goes better when we go to church."  We did and it did.  Mom was a power that has probably grown greater through the years, but her bitty stature and her mighty soul took charge of her family and gave history our farm experience.  I wish I had had a road trip with my mom.  What a joy thaat would have been. 

No comments:

Post a Comment