Happy Birthday, Mom

 Dear Mom,

I hope you are reading this somewhere and heard me whisper "Happy Birthday, Mom" to you today. We are alike in that neither of us is a big birthday person, but nonetheless, it's nice to hear it. I am mostly secure with the idea that your soul is at rest, that you are content, that you are whole, that you are your most perfect self.  

I wish I could say the same for me.  All the anniversaries related to you and dad continue to have profound of effect on all of us. No wonder I fall into a spring funk every year. Thankfully, these day aren't nearly as crushing as they were in the first years after you left. Those were super hard times, but given that I had a young, active family to attend to, I didn't have the time dwell.  I had to keep going.  I wonder now if I actually properly grieved your loss?  And how would I know if I did?  There isn't a standard rule book for Mother Grieving that gives a line item punch list.  

Mom, I think it might be time for me to take on this task, but I'm going to need your help. You know me. You raised me to be just like you. I'm going to act all independent and strong and like I have it all together. But you also know that deep, deep down, I need a tiny hug.  Not a big bear hug, you know we hate those....unless, of course, it's with each other and only reserved for the biggest occasions.  

So, if it's Ok, I'm going to need you to take a break from whatever you been doing lately and pay extra close attention to me.  You know how every once in while you pop into my dreams unexpectedly? If you could go ahead and show up tonight that would be great.  Send dad, too, if he's not busy fishing.  

I'm not sure how we should get started.  Maybe I need to start with ALL THE THINGS I WISH I WOULD HAVE TOLD YOU.  What do you need to hear first?  My first inclination is to start with all my apologies, but maybe that should wait.  Because those are hard. Because there are a whole bunch of those and thinking about them makes me feel sad and anxious.  So let me start with gratitude.  

Thank you for raising me to be strong, independent, and willing to take on hard things. This is firmly cemented now in my DNA.

Thank you for teaching me about courage. When you faced your diagnosis, you didn't crumble. I did. Literally. You fought with such bravery, through every single, pain-filled option, until your very last breath. You were the one who told ME not to be scared.

Thank you for showing me how to be creative, how to sew, how to tear things apart and put them back together. For the space and freedom to make messes.  For having a house full of books and magazines and for letting me read the Thornbirds when I was probably a bit too young.

Thank you for showing me how to be a mom and a wife at the same time. We knew the hierarchy... Dad first, kids second. No deviation.  I wished I had paid closer attention to this one, honestly. You left just as my kids were becoming teens and I sure could have used a few pointers back then. 

Thank you for living out your faith in a way that made sense, without shame attached, but with clear conviction. I learned there is a big difference.  You never made it weird and always allowed me to question. 

Thank you for my siblings.  We are all best friends, Mom, we really are. We have stuck together through a lot of hard, hard things over the years. I wish you could read the text thread your kids had going today full of stories and photos. (PS... you might not be thrilled with some of the comments regarding your attire.)

And thank you for demanding that we have compassion for others. You weren't big on outward  demonstrations of feelings, but I promise you, we felt the love that you had for each of us even with out the words attached. You were always a defender of the underdogs and let us know early on that we better pay attention for those less fortunate by continually reminding us we were "two shake of a lambs tail" away from ending up in the same circumstances. Oh, how right you were! I get it now.

So now onto "I'm Sorries". Maybe you don't need to hear the I'm sorry parts. I wasn't the easiest kid to raise and know I made life really, really hard for you. Is that what I'm hanging on to?  As a mother myself, I want my kids to relinquish past indiscretions and release any shame or guilt they might be holding onto.  I believe that is exactly what you want for me as well....being that you raised me to be just like you.  Did you just tell me to go ahead and skip that part? Got it!  No rehashing today or any other day either for that matter.

You know what? You just taught me one more thing. The way to process grief is to live in gratitude and remember the good stuff.  Rereading this is making me think of a thousand more reasons that I am thankful that you were my mom.  So now on all the hard anniversaries, I know what to do: lean on gratitude and share the sweet memories. 

Thank you, Mom.  I love you.  


Comments

  1. AnonymousMarch 10, 2022 at 5:58 PM

    What a phenomenal, well-written tribute to your mom, D. The specificity of your gratitude list was heartfelt and crafted in such a way that honored the beauty of your relationship. This line felt especially meaningful. "Thank you for living out your faith in a way that made sense, without shame attached, but with clear conviction. I learned there is a big difference. You never made it weird and always allowed me to question." Grateful you shared this with the SOL community.

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