There are times when Motherloss hits a person hard, and times when it doesn't.
Listening to friends complaining about their mother's meddling, or sighs, or, well, anything, makes me glad I never had the chance to develop any type of contentious or odd relationship. That's the bonus to losing your mother early. You don't have to listen to her bitching about your boyfriend or job or lack of children.
Of course, there are days when I want to curl up and scream for my mommy, and the inner toddler stamps her Keds clad feet and yells "NO FAIR!" with clenched fists, cause her mommy should be there.
Vivian's birthday was like that.
And no, I don't sit around thinking all sad and stuff all day long, despite what this blog seems to be like. I'm not that bad now that I'm medicated.
It's just that somedays are full of moments I wish I could share with my MOTHER, moments that only your Mother could understand the significance of.
I watched as the Dorf took Vivian on her first real "ride" at the local amusement park. And after feeling proud of my "big girl", all I could think was " I wish Mom was here."
I wish this a lot. And not just when I need advice, or a shoulder, but in the little quiet moments that I know I'll remember forever. When I sung "O Holy Night" to Vivian so quietly as she fell asleep in my arms her first Christmas. Listening to Rosalyn babble "MAMAMA" in her crib as she falls asleep. Watching Vivian find her courage and climb up to the top of a VERY tall jungle gym. Eating homemade banana bread together.
Times like these make me want my mother desperately, almost like a drug sometimes. She's been gone for over 17 years, and yet she still sits front and center in my mind, especially now that I have daughters. I find myself commenting that now that there are two, I feel better. I have "insurance".
I am so terribly afraid of dying. Because I worry I will leave them. And I worry that they will sit in moments, lost in thought, wanting to cry out for me.
I almost cannot bear it. THIS is what happiness does to me! As my heart contracts from the sweetness, it also recoils in fear and anger and sadness as I want my Mother will me dammit-she deserves to be with us, she deserves her granddaughters, deserves to be more than a creature whose strength will become legend for my daughters.
My mother, and my motherloss, has molded my life, and is also molding my parenting. The oddest part is, if she had survived the cancer, it's highly unlikely these kids would even be here today. But I can't help but get so very angry that I've lost something I want so badly-a grandmother to my girls. MY mother, able to hold my daughters in her arms. I want to enjoy moments without the wistful sadness creeping in.
I want to be able to read "Love you Forever" without bursting into tears. (Vivian won't let me read it anymore, saying "I don't want you to cry")
Doesn't that just break your heart? She doesn't want me to cry anymore....
I like to think my mother comes to them in dreams. I figure since she's never in mine, she must go somewhere, right?
I just miss her, that's all.
Listening to friends complaining about their mother's meddling, or sighs, or, well, anything, makes me glad I never had the chance to develop any type of contentious or odd relationship. That's the bonus to losing your mother early. You don't have to listen to her bitching about your boyfriend or job or lack of children.
Of course, there are days when I want to curl up and scream for my mommy, and the inner toddler stamps her Keds clad feet and yells "NO FAIR!" with clenched fists, cause her mommy should be there.
Vivian's birthday was like that.
And no, I don't sit around thinking all sad and stuff all day long, despite what this blog seems to be like. I'm not that bad now that I'm medicated.
It's just that somedays are full of moments I wish I could share with my MOTHER, moments that only your Mother could understand the significance of.
I watched as the Dorf took Vivian on her first real "ride" at the local amusement park. And after feeling proud of my "big girl", all I could think was " I wish Mom was here."
I wish this a lot. And not just when I need advice, or a shoulder, but in the little quiet moments that I know I'll remember forever. When I sung "O Holy Night" to Vivian so quietly as she fell asleep in my arms her first Christmas. Listening to Rosalyn babble "MAMAMA" in her crib as she falls asleep. Watching Vivian find her courage and climb up to the top of a VERY tall jungle gym. Eating homemade banana bread together.
Times like these make me want my mother desperately, almost like a drug sometimes. She's been gone for over 17 years, and yet she still sits front and center in my mind, especially now that I have daughters. I find myself commenting that now that there are two, I feel better. I have "insurance".
I am so terribly afraid of dying. Because I worry I will leave them. And I worry that they will sit in moments, lost in thought, wanting to cry out for me.
I almost cannot bear it. THIS is what happiness does to me! As my heart contracts from the sweetness, it also recoils in fear and anger and sadness as I want my Mother will me dammit-she deserves to be with us, she deserves her granddaughters, deserves to be more than a creature whose strength will become legend for my daughters.
My mother, and my motherloss, has molded my life, and is also molding my parenting. The oddest part is, if she had survived the cancer, it's highly unlikely these kids would even be here today. But I can't help but get so very angry that I've lost something I want so badly-a grandmother to my girls. MY mother, able to hold my daughters in her arms. I want to enjoy moments without the wistful sadness creeping in.
I want to be able to read "Love you Forever" without bursting into tears. (Vivian won't let me read it anymore, saying "I don't want you to cry")
Doesn't that just break your heart? She doesn't want me to cry anymore....
I like to think my mother comes to them in dreams. I figure since she's never in mine, she must go somewhere, right?
I just miss her, that's all.
I lost my grandmother when I had just turned 3. My parents marvel at how much I remember her, right down to the patterns she had on her bedsheets and the color of her shag carpeting, the housedresses she used to wear. Things my parents could have never told me, and things that there are no pictures of. To this day, I feel a strong connection to her, I think of her often, and even though she passed over 20 years ago, her memory is ingrained in me.
What my point is, I guess, is that I think if you keep your mother's memory alive by sharing her with your children, they CAN have her. Maybe not in the way that you'd wish, but still. I am a firm believer that people who have passed on are still with us, in a very realistic way. Not to sound hokey, but I don't think a person's spirit just leaves their loved ones. I think they follow you through your life and watch over you.
Posted by
Anonymous |
10:35 a.m.
I just want to second what magdalena said. My husband lost both his parents before our daughter was born. This past winter we also lost his godmother, who had sort of 'stood in' since the loss of his mother.
Emma talks to them on her little play phone all the time. We look at pictures and talk about the many 'hand me down' objects in our home. In fact, we live in the house my husband was raised in, so there is definitely a very strong presence.
Its certainly not as good as if they were with us physically, but I do believe they are there spiritually.
Posted by
Anonymous |
11:53 a.m.
I try to keep her alive. Problem being-I have few pictures of her, and I believe ONE thing that belonged to her. My father tossed all of her stuff before I could grab anything, and I have no ideas where most of the pictures went. He had a very hard time losing the love of his life.
I try to tell them stories of their mother, but it's so freaking hard because I have no memories to use-I have no idea if she liked dogs, or what exactly happened when my Uncle Roland died. I don't know anything, so it's so hard to keep more than a creation alive in my own head.
I think I miss that more sometimes-having a "person" to speak of. I only have a figment at best.
Posted by
thordora |
12:38 p.m.
I can't read "Love You Forever" aloud either. ;)
When you think about it though, that mom is a little bit creepy.
Posted by
Anonymous |
2:57 p.m.
Leave it to Eden to crack me the fuck up.
Actually, I wasn't bad until I learned that he only wrote it because of the two stillborns they had. THAT got me.
And because I remember taking care of my mother when she was sick, and wanting her so badly to be able to go puke in the bathroom by herself, instead of in a bowl I then had to carry to the toilet.
Posted by
thordora |
3:42 p.m.
Am I the only one that's never even HEARD of "Love You Forever"??
I'm sorry. :(
Posted by
Anonymous |
10:33 p.m.
It sucks dosent it? No matter which way you cut it. Your mom is gone, mine is nutso but I feel her absence as a normal mother as if she was gone too. It makes me so sad that my girls will never have a normal grandma.
Posted by
Anonymous |
1:13 p.m.
Missing my mommy is a theme this week. I'm depressing right now-sorry dudes.
And yes, it sucks balls.
And Nicole, once you get pregnant, you'll receive a copy I'm sure.
Posted by
thordora |
1:17 p.m.