One year ago today, Mom left us to be with Dad. Her last few years had been rough, with both her body and mind failing, but for the most part, she was still Mom. And even though she struggled to remember what she’d had for breakfast, or if she’d even eaten at all, she could recall moments from the past with incredible accuracy – a skill that I’m becoming familiar with myself as I get older.
I wanted to find a photo of her that best reflected her loving spirit but that was tough because she hated to have her picture taken. The one I chose was taken at my brother, Scott’s house, probably for a birthday. She was happy and best of all, she had Dad at her side.
Like any mothers and daughters, our relationship was sometimes difficult, stemming from our differences but also from the many ways we were alike. As a child, I saw her as a grown-up, the strong loving leader of our growing tribe and didn’t always understand why at times she seemed unhappy with us. As an adult, I now see how difficult it must have been to have had six children by the time she was thirty and manage keeping us all fed and clothed on my Dad’s one salary. The stress must have been tremendous. A major release for this stress was humor.
Occasionally, when my dad was either out of town or had a late meeting and it was just Mom and us kids at the dinner table, things could get out of hand. We never reached cries of “food fight” , but we could get really giddy. Thinking back, except when we were all piled into the car to go somewhere, dinner time was the only time when we were all assembled in one place. Without Dad there, we could get a little silly and get Mom laughing too. It wasn’t that Dad was overly strict, he was just tired after a long day of work and wasn’t up for nonsense at the dinner table. And the stuff we would laugh about was definitely stupid, inane elementary school humor which could result in the occasional blowing of milk through the nose or wet pants but the laughing in itself felt so good.
Up until her last few days, I called Mom every day at 3:00. I would tell her what was happening in my life and keep her up to date on the kids’ comings and going. Mom would fill me in on what was happening in her world, which was becoming increasingly smaller but the highlight of her sharing was always her Ragdoll cat, Rosie, who was her constant companion and the apple of her eye. Mom and Dad got Rosie when they moved from Florida. She was their little darling which can be documented by the number of pictures of her that my Dad would share from his phone.
Rosie is with me now and you could say our relationship is also sometimes difficult – she loves me to brush her but if I try to pet her, she bites my hand. I guess I’m similar enough to Mom in someways but at the same time different. But despite her indifference, having her here and caring for her allows me a living connection with Mom and Dad by caring for something they cared so deeply about. I am grateful to have her but I wish she wouldn’t bite.
Thanks Monica ..