While working in my garden last week, I pulled my hands from the soil and had a flashback as I saw my mother’s hands attached to my wrists. My mother is a creative woman and one of her passions is gardening. I remember watching my mom manipulate the soil around her roses with her small squared hands. Mom is a small woman who just reaches five feet tall yet I can't remember her being intimidated by anything and she would tackle any project with enthusiasm. Her little hands would sew stitches that were perfect and even. These same tiny hands would fly up and down the piano keyboard with incredible speed as she played extremely complex pieces.
The relationship with my mother has always been turbulent. After I moved away from home, the relationship eventually disintegrated into nothingness. Although my mother is not a mean spirited woman, she is best described as being extremely self absorbed and not very forgiving. If she does not get her way she simply “cuts people out of her life.” I have never been able to understand how any mother could simply discard her own children the way some people toss out an old newspaper and it is beyond my comprehension how a woman who loves children so much can turn her back on her own.
I moved away from home three days after I graduated High School. My dad was worrying about my drive, offering advise, and checking my car on the day that I left. My mother never acknowledged my departure. I think that she was unhappy because I had arranged to stay with my older sister until I found a place to live. She had turned her back on my sister for something I considered to be unreasonable several years earlier. I know she was angry that, not only was I not supporting her decision, I was leaving to stay with the enemy. Mom sat in front of her piano and didn’t get up or say a word of goodbye because she was playing a complicated piece. Saying good bye to me could cause her to lose her concentration. I stood for a moment to watch as her hands manipulated the piano keys. Her fingers flew across the keyboard so quickly that they were a blur. As I drove away, my dad stood outside waving solemnly but I could see my mother through a family room window bent over her piano keyboard, completely focused on her music. She never broke her concentration and she did not even look to see her last child leaving home. At the time I was wondering if she felt anything. How could she not say goodbye? Was she indifferent or simply unwilling to deal with her feelings? Many years passed before I could listen to piano music without getting an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.
When I reflect on what I admire about my mom, I think of her fighting spirit and her zest for life. My mother rarely exhibited fear and it seemed that no task was too much for her. One evening when I was about 12 my mom, my sister, and I came home and found someone in our garage stealing gasoline from my mother’s car. Before we could stop mom, her little hands grabbed a stick and she dashed into the garage. Moments later two large burly men were being chased down the street by my tiny mother. My father was, as usual, upset at the risk she took. Mom was able to assist the police in their capture of these men and for years she kept the large can of gasoline they dropped during their hasty departure.
I have another memory of a time when she and my father had an argument. After my father left for work, my mother took his boat without telling him, and we went to the lake. A storm was coming in and the water was getting rough. As we headed back to the dock we saw two men in the water clinging to a small row boat that had capsized. Mom pulled alongside and we helped them into our boat. Between us, we were able to flip the capsized boat and tow it to shore. As we got home I remember the sight of my dad standing in the driveway and he looked upset. My little mother did not appear to be intimidated. Instead, she simply put her chin in the air and pranced right past him into the house. Dad was upset because she took the boat out without telling anyone where she was going but when he heard about the rescue he became upset about the risk she took. I recall the sight of my mom facing him, chin held high and hands on her hips as she replied distinctly “..and exactly what would you have me do? Leave them there? I am just as capable.....” Dad just stood and stared down at her for a long time. He had no reply so he simply walked out of the house to calm down.
Mother’s day is approaching and I can’t help but compare my role as a mother to the role my own mother chose. By the time my mother was my age, she had purposely estranged herself from her two brothers, my father, and three of her four children. She had a different reason for each estrangement, but I don't feel that any of her reasons truly justified a reason to disown anyone. My sister and I attempted to keep an open line of communication because we hoped to give our children an opportunity to know their grandmother. All attempts have been rejected and today my mom does not know her own grandchildren. My mother is so stubborn, unforgiving, and often so self absorbed that it is easier for us not to be put in a position where we are forced to deal with her tirades and unreasonable demands. Even so, I treasure my memories of her and I am sad that my children will never know the ornery little woman who chases burglars down the street in the evening and cries when she finds a bird with a broken wing the next day.
I could spend my life resenting my mother, but I don’t. Anger and resentment are negative emotions that accomplish nothing positive. The victim mentality is a waste of time and I refuse to surrender to it. It is my belief that life is a journey and if my focus is on the view in the rear view mirror I will miss the opportunity to see the beautiful scenery that lies in front of me. As challenging as my mother can be, I treasure every memory because my experiences are what molded me into the person I have become. These experiences have made me stronger and the challenges have caused me to appreciate my blessings that much more.
I will admit that I am disappointed because I was unable to maintain a relationship with my mother. However, mom is the one who made the choice so it is her loss. She denied herself the gift of family but I have two incredible children plus an extended family who always does something special to express their affection for me, not only on Mother’s day, but on many other days throughout the year. So this year I will again send a Mother’s day card that will not be acknowledged because, although I am my mother's daughter, I choose a different response.
After every storm comes a rainbow and I have been blessed with many rainbows. My mother's day is a special day, not because of the relationship I have with my own mother, but because of the relationship with my own children, the memories I choose to treasure, and the choices I have made on my own journey through motherhood.
“Just because a person doesn’t love you the way you want them to doesn’t mean that they don’t love you with all that they have got. “Source Unknown
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