Mom
Last night, as I was taking a bath, I had a strange memory.
I remember being a child and finding the place in her room where my mom kept all of her most treasured belongings. Glass bracelets from Nepal, necklaces from Africa, perfumes in dark bottles…so many beautiful and exotic pieces. Like my mom. Beautiful. Exotic. A treasure to pine for.
I’m the youngest of five children. Our parents were raised Catholic, but my mom wanted to leave the church behind for us. She didn’t want us to be filled with guilt, shame, or judgements that she felt organized religion might pass along. She did, however, want to raise us with the beauty and kindness of the Catholic church. She wanted to give us the best parts.
When I was little, I wanted to be JUST. LIKE. HER. I loved watching how others watched her. She was beautiful, quiet, patient, intentional, curious, and honest. When I was a teenager, these traits turned into: vain, absent, slow, hurtful, probing, insensitive. Looking back, I’m guessing it’s me that imagined the changes. I needed her to be these negatives in order to pull away from her, to individuate, to discover who I was (outside of being her baby).
I was reflecting on all of this and remembering how much I had hoped my mom would one day share some of her exotic treasures with me. Looking back now, I'm guessing that learning to share prized possessions with others is hardly what she would've been taught in an orphanage (where she'd spent her young childhood). They had almost nothing. How could she have learned this there?
You see, I wanted access to who my mom was, and I thought I could find clues in her valuable treasures. Turns out, SHE was the treasure I wanted access to, and since I didn’t know how to ask for this, I childishly believed I could be more like HER if she shared these ‘things’ with me.
I was thinking about all of this because I am now 50 and my daughter is 20. We’ve decided to become roommates. A situation we knew could feel strange and uncomfortable at first, but one we were both curious enough to try out. My son, her brother, died almost exactly a year ago. My mom died two years ago tomorrow. We are currently in a self-imposed lockdown as our world experiences a pandemic that I’ve yet to wrap my head around.
Mom died two years ago tomorrow.
Henry, my 14 year old son, died 361 days ago.
Our entire planet is experiencing a pandemic.
So, as I’m in the bathtub, I start thinking about my daughter. I think about all the things of mine that she has desired over the years. Mostly, though, I think about my intuitive desire NOT to share. This is, in all honesty, my go-to.
Is it because I’m the youngest of five, and treasures were also hard to come by?
This realization, my selfishness and unwillingness to share easily, felt so clear last night. As I pulled myself out from the tub, I felt toxic. I felt like a bomb had quietly gone off in my body.
I started thinking of all the examples of my feeling as if my ‘needs weren’t being met’ or
‘if I share some with YOU, I won’t get enough.’
It made me feel more and more nauseas.
This is FEAR. This is scarcity. My thoughts around this are NOT realities. I have and will always be provided for (my belief system)…so why does this feel so hard?
Maybe it’s simply a ‘letting go’. Maybe I can find a way to hold on to the love, and let go of the fear?
Something to strive for.
I slowly, and I mean SLOWLY, pulled myself from the bath. I sat on the edge of the clawfoot tub, breathed deeply, and unexpectedly threw up.
I practically crawled to bed, my pajamas, and my bed. I was sick. Only, not ‘sick’ in a pandemic covid-19 way, in a “I’m more than ready to let this shit GO!” kind of way.
I texted my daughter in her bedroom a few feet away that I wasn’t feeling well, so I’d be going to bed soon. She texted right back, saying she and her guy would be quiet, that she was sorry I wasn’t feeling well.
This is my starting point today.
I imagine a future where my daughter will know that there is MORE than enough of everything she could ever need. That it’s never been about ‘things’ anyhow. It’s been about understanding what makes us, US. I imagine a me that is fully available to my daughter. Creating a relationship with her that feels whole and complete. Life goal.
I am loved. I am NOT my things. I have everything I could ever hope for: a loving family, kind friends, a beautiful home to dwell in. I don’t have much by the way of material wealth, and that’s okay. I will not be taking anything in to the next world other than my actions, my words, and my love, anyhow.
As I celebrate the life and love of my mom today, I invite everyone to make TODAY a new Starting Point. I’ve been told, over and over again, that we have the right to reset at any time. I feel ready to let go of my old ‘agreements’ and my worn out narrative. I am ready to reset.
I miss you, mom. I have always loved you so much. Thank You for everything. xoM
