Mom

This is my beautiful Mother. Three weeks after she died I remember sitting in a bible study while each woman introduced herself. My turn came. My grief spilled out that my mom had just died. An elderly woman, thinking she was offering me comfort spoke, "God knew you didn't need her anymore." Almost fourteen years later I have never stopped feeling like I've needed my mom.

The mother-daughter relationship always has seemed like a push-pull one to me. Sometimes I would want the warm, nurturing words and presence of my mom when I was growing up. Sometimes I would repel her intrusion, seeking to come into my own. Be a "big girl".

I'll never forget when my parents drove me in the dead of winter to college. It was January in upper Michigan. We took two cars to carry all my things, my dad in the lead and my mom and me following close behind. And I do mean close behind because for hours we drove in treacherous weather. White-out driving. My mom's knuckles were white like the snow crashing into us, clenching the steering wheel. She couldn't stand it any longer and asked me to drive. It was an important moment to precede the 'goodbye' we would say the next day after I was settled in the dorm. I started realizing I didn't always need my mom to take care of me. It made me want to run toward her to hold me tight while simultaneously leaping out into the world. When the goodbyes were said the next day my throat had a hard lump in it and I imagine hers did too. We did not share how we felt. We were both being "big girls".

When she was fifty-eight and I was thirty, mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer. In four short months she was gone. I thought I would never be able to live without my mom. I saw mom all the time. I talked to her daily. She provided enormous support to my mothering and to my children. We were friends. She seemed indispensable. Irreplaceable. And she was.

What I wasn't expecting in the years to come was that the memories of her would cradle me both the good and the not-so pretty. Pain and healing sprang from the life of her memory. New experiences and people entered my life which became a continuing landscape to the one I had had with my mom. Although her physical presence was not with me, she still was.

To say I don't need her anymore is to say I don't need to breathe. I've wanted her with me too many times to count. As true though, I do not need her as much as I use to for I have taken flight and the memories carry me.

I write this for those of you who are like me, still missing the presence of your mother in you lives.

Happy Mother's Day!



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