This can be a really hard time of year for me because it is approaching the anniversary of my mother's death. Some years it passes with almost no recognition or other notable feelings, but some years it hits deep and painful. Looking at the calendar I realized that the days line up the same as they did 28 years ago with her dying on Tuesday, Jan 7. And I am exactly twice as old as I was when she died, so that seems significant as well. Another factor is probably that last year was such a big happy year and so the sadness just feels bigger too. Equal and opposite reactions and all that.
My heart is deeply scarred and maybe a little tough. As a child I struggled with feelings of abandonment and emotional neglect because I felt like my mother was not there for me as much as I needed her. I'm not trying to vilify her or play the victim. It was just the way things were at that time. She longed for her own independence and autonomy at that time when women were fighting for equal rights and treatment and she was on the forefront. While I appreciate all of that I also have to recognize my own unmet needs. That generation of women did leave their children as sacrifices on the altar of advancement. We are all a bit scarred even if we don't recognize it.
I'm not saying my childhood was bad. I just see now that the theme of inadequate connection and attention runs throughout. I had a good relationship with my mother. I wanted her to be happy and I tried to do whatever I could to avoid being a source of stress or anger. She was supportive of my dreams and aspirations and allowed me an unusual amount of freedom to pursue them. At the time that freedom did not feel so much like disconnection, but looking back I can see that I suppressed those feelings to avoid appearing ungrateful for the opportunities. There were several years of my preteen and early teenage development when I lived long periods of time away from home so that I could chase my figure skating dreams. I was physically as well as emotionally separated from home. Maybe all of that is why I seem to have some kind of attachment issues - trouble maintaining friendships but also sometimes becoming overly attached to some relationships.
As a mother I've tried to be available to my children much more than my mother was to me. There are times when I look back and feel like I was not as emotionally available as I could have been, but I also recognize that grief and loss over my mother just as I became a mother were really significant factors. My kids seem to have grown up pretty well despite my failures and shortcomings. Being their mom is the source of my greatest happiness.
Another aspect of time that could be making this year's anniversary more emotional is that I am watching friends lose their mothers and the empathy brings back a lot of the pain of loss. It's never easy to lose a parent. I try not to feel envy that they've had so many more years of life with their mothers, and I try not to feel distain for those who've cut ties with their mothers because of toxic relationships or whatever other issues have made them feel it necessary to willingly disconnect. I'm not judging. It's just hard to relate. I am thankful that I am not having to watch my mother disappear via dementia. That has got to be the hardest thing to experience.
It feels weird that my mother has grandchildren that she never knew. My oldest wasn't even one when she died. She never knew the traumas and difficulties involved in bringing my other two babies into the world. She didn't get to see the deep physical scars of my own motherhood. Those are as deep and complex as the ones that bind my heart. Deeply scarred inside and out. But also extremely blessed with these wonderful people who are descended from her. Worth all the pain and transformation.
So here's to the memory of my mother. And the wondering what she'd really think about me now as I've aged beyond the years she got to live. Would she like me? Would she be disappointed in my failures and inadequacies? Would she admire that as a mother I've quantitatively had more experience than she did? Would she see me as the wise woman I'd like to be?
Like the broken heart that has healed many times there is a toughness and maybe some sharp edges to navigate while working through these feelings. I will try to give myself the mother love that I've longed for, but I might need more than I can do for myself.
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