I looked at a photo of my mother yesterday, smiling, happy, sitting next to my father. It was one of those moments when I slipped into the picture, able to see what was around that day, smelling the spring flowers, hearing the conversation.
I am fortunate enough to have many dreams of my mother, and most of them are pleasant. Generally, we’re doing something very natural, having coffee at the dining room table, the seats filled by extended family, dead and alive. For the while that I am sitting there I have a deep sense of well being. It is only when I have to leave that I wake up to our separation, to the fact that we are alive differently, her on her spiritual plane, me here on earth. And I wonder if she is initiating the thoughts by sending me that vibe, or if I am manufacturing what I would like to experience.
People always question TV psychics about messages from the next world. I tend to get the same one over and over, that my mother is still around, still listening, still loving the family. She looks healthy, happy, and appreciates the visit. The only difference between the dream and my life experience is she doesn’t ask me to stay longer. I feel sorrow as we embrace, though I know I can’t stay, I have to get home to my family, my life. I am the one who has difficulty letting go.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Self Mothering
I have a lot of sympathy for Cathy in my book, for someone who loses her mother so early in her life, has no other family, and feels disconnected. I do hear from younger women who have suffered such a heartbreaking loss, and love the idea of finding a “Mary” who would be willing to help them.
In my community, services are packed when there are children still in the household and the mother of the family has died. Other mothers try to fill in with rides, meals, whatever way they can help the children. Even if those simple gestures cannot fill the void, they do help. But what do those children do on holidays, on Mother’s Day, in those quiet moments when you know everything would be all right if only you had your mother’s advice? And what if you don’t have a community to wrap its arms around you?
I suspect you carry along the mother you’ve known and eventually become the mother you need for yourself and your children. You learn how to nurture yourself in those situations where you don’t have a lot of emotional support. You look to other role models, male or female, to other sources of comfort. You watch, listen, and learn.
I’m not sure we ever get one hundred percent of what we need from one person in any relationship. And I think as much as we love our own mothers, we’ve all had experiences where others have filled the role of nurturer--the aunt who takes us to the theater, the cousin who teaches us how to drive, the girlfriend who invites us to a family picnic. Every person, every generous heart has something to offer.
In my community, services are packed when there are children still in the household and the mother of the family has died. Other mothers try to fill in with rides, meals, whatever way they can help the children. Even if those simple gestures cannot fill the void, they do help. But what do those children do on holidays, on Mother’s Day, in those quiet moments when you know everything would be all right if only you had your mother’s advice? And what if you don’t have a community to wrap its arms around you?
I suspect you carry along the mother you’ve known and eventually become the mother you need for yourself and your children. You learn how to nurture yourself in those situations where you don’t have a lot of emotional support. You look to other role models, male or female, to other sources of comfort. You watch, listen, and learn.
I’m not sure we ever get one hundred percent of what we need from one person in any relationship. And I think as much as we love our own mothers, we’ve all had experiences where others have filled the role of nurturer--the aunt who takes us to the theater, the cousin who teaches us how to drive, the girlfriend who invites us to a family picnic. Every person, every generous heart has something to offer.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Other People's Mothers
The grass always seemed greener when TV mothers came down the stairs in starched dresses, managed to have a spotless home, polite children, and a suited husband who smoked a pipe in a den furnished with a mahogany desk and floor to ceiling bookshelves. I loved the fantasy of a quiet, dignified family life, even though I knew it was a fantasy.
I grew up with yelling in two languages, banging and begging on the only bathroom door, even on rare occasions, when it was only my immediate family of six taking turns with the claw-footed bathtub. The kitchen wall phone delivered good and bad news throughout the day, televisions blared from several locations, and my mother was always on duty in a snapped smock apron and a percolator that predictably overflowed on the stove, feeding and housing the visiting masses.
It was from other people’s mothers that I learned how to be an American, because even though my mother was born here, she lived her life as an Italian wife and mother. When I was young I noticed mothers who could drive, who worked in offices or stores, even some who had gone to college. I’ve had a remarkable progression of mature women in my life who have offered advice freely.
There was a woman I shared a workspace with at college who had raised boys, whose stories were always infused with humor, and who always had a wonderful disposition. Another mother I worked with whose husband committed suicide, passed on life-lessons of kindness, which she attributed to her own mother. In my hometown I loved talking to a mother of ten who spoke about the importance of listening to children, organizing Christmas, and taking time for oneself.
Motherhood is a full time job, but we don’t have our children all day. I think there are some incredible mothers out there, and if you’re lucky, you end up working beside them, on line behind them, or maybe even in their cars. I know my children are occasionally treated to one who will see something in them my family has taken for granted, and it boosts their self esteem.
I’d love to become one of the “other people’s mothers” who says the right word of encouragement or leads by example, or keeps the football team from stuffing the extra boy in the trunk by driving them to practice. I’m very grateful to the other mothers I’ve learned from and especially to those who have my back now.
I grew up with yelling in two languages, banging and begging on the only bathroom door, even on rare occasions, when it was only my immediate family of six taking turns with the claw-footed bathtub. The kitchen wall phone delivered good and bad news throughout the day, televisions blared from several locations, and my mother was always on duty in a snapped smock apron and a percolator that predictably overflowed on the stove, feeding and housing the visiting masses.
It was from other people’s mothers that I learned how to be an American, because even though my mother was born here, she lived her life as an Italian wife and mother. When I was young I noticed mothers who could drive, who worked in offices or stores, even some who had gone to college. I’ve had a remarkable progression of mature women in my life who have offered advice freely.
There was a woman I shared a workspace with at college who had raised boys, whose stories were always infused with humor, and who always had a wonderful disposition. Another mother I worked with whose husband committed suicide, passed on life-lessons of kindness, which she attributed to her own mother. In my hometown I loved talking to a mother of ten who spoke about the importance of listening to children, organizing Christmas, and taking time for oneself.
Motherhood is a full time job, but we don’t have our children all day. I think there are some incredible mothers out there, and if you’re lucky, you end up working beside them, on line behind them, or maybe even in their cars. I know my children are occasionally treated to one who will see something in them my family has taken for granted, and it boosts their self esteem.
I’d love to become one of the “other people’s mothers” who says the right word of encouragement or leads by example, or keeps the football team from stuffing the extra boy in the trunk by driving them to practice. I’m very grateful to the other mothers I’ve learned from and especially to those who have my back now.
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