I haven't always looked forward to Mother's day. I didn't always have the best relationship with my own mother, although I loved her dearly. Somehow, that put a crimp in our celebrations - at least on my part. I was always hyper vigilant that nothing was said that could somehow be turned against me at a later date because that was mom's forte. I also felt guilty about my own mothering skills as my children grew up. Mother's day just reminded me of how unworthy I was compared to most of the other mothers I knew back when I was struggling to raise my own.
Now I realize how wasteful that kind of thinking is. My mom died on May 10, 2004, the day after Mother's Day. She was ill - her heart was failing and she was suffering from dementia and living at our home when she died. She knew who we were but didn't always know where she was. As the dementia progressed, she became very quiet, docile and passive - a shell of the person she had been. She stayed in bed more and more each day. She ate very little - mostly just tea and toast. She watched a little bit of TV but slept most of the time.
I took care of my mom, especially during that last year when she lived with us. But somehow, I still managed to avoid her. Not that I didn't see her daily - I can't really explain it. We had someone come in during the day to take care of her while we were at work but I was there every night. I did what had to be done but managed to keep a solid distance between us - I guess emotionally. I was incredibly uncomfortable and I think, a little cold sometimes. I guess I was protecting myself.
On our last Mother's Day celebration, she did not even get up to eat with us. I brought her a small plate of food in her room and she ate very little. Later, we all had dessert and tea in her room with her while she opened her presents. There was lots of talking and laughing and she really seemed to enjoy herself. It was very sweet.
I wish I could have that day back again. Knowing what I know now, I would do things differently. I would spend the entire day in her room with the windows open and curtains blowing in the breeze. I would watch TV with her and hold her hand. I would talk to her and ask her to reminisce about her family and childhood. I'd let go of all the unspoken stuff that stood between us and I would tell her all of the great things I remember about her.
Like my memory of walking down the street with her eating an ice-cream cone at the age of 4 or 5 on a warm summer's day. I dropped my cone on the sidewalk and it landed upside down on the ice cream. I started crying and mom, cool as a cucumber, told me not to cry, picked up the cone and wiped it on the front of her shirt so I could eat it. I was seriously in awe. She was my hero. I can still remember to this day the admiration I felt for her that moment.
I'd talk about her kelly green wool dress and her kelly green fur hat that she donned every St. Patrick's day when she went out to celebrate with her friends. She always looked so awesome in that get-up and she loved to celebrate our Irish ancestry. She was quite the party girl in her day.
I'd remind her of how she always brought me a box of Milk Duds when she was at the movies with friends.
I'd tell her of how much fun she was when I was small and all the little things she did to make me laugh. I'd tell her she was the best grandmother to my children that anyone could have hoped for and that I learned to be a good grandmother from her.
I'd let her know that I was so thankful for all the times she helped me when times were hard and I'd tell her how much I loved her in spite of the emotional distance that grew between us over the years.
It's kind of a shame - so many things left unsaid that were clouded over by hurt feelings and mistrust. And what was I protecting myself from anyway? Sigh... just a plain waste of precious time.
It's said that "hindsight is 20/20." In my experience, that's very true.
So, these days I try very hard to make sure that my relationship with my grown children is solid and filled with love and trust. I don't want them to go through the same kind of sadness and loss when it's my time to go and I don't want anything left unsaid. That's where the greatest loss is and it can be avoided.
I'm not terribly sad anymore though. Mom knew that I loved her. We always kissed and hugged every time we saw each other. And we always said I love you. I have some great memories of her. I only wish I'd shown her more.
I love you mom.
