PORTLAND, OREGON
Wikipedia
defines Mother’s Day as “a celebration honoring the mother of the family, as
well as motherhood, maternal bonds and the influence of mothers’ in society.”
It is a day for juvenile and adult children to show their moms their
appreciation. This can take many forms: gifts, shared meals, cards, phone calls
or, nowadays, the ever so popular text message. For most, it is a time filled
with joy and happiness, but for many of us, it is bittersweet.
Saturday,
May 13th
On
Saturday morning, my Portland based daughter and family arrived on my doorstep
bearing gifts and to wish me a Happy Mother’s Day. My son-in-law had a large
flowering potted plant in tow, and it was exquisite. My granddaughters Sloane
5, and Sawyer 2, knew the way to grandma’s heart, and each had a container of cupcakes
from the Fat Bakery. I had barely finished saying thank you to the girls when
they bolted for my kitchen table each taking a seat. “Can we help you eat your
cupcakes NOW grandma?” There was an
urgent emphasis on the word now. “What a
great idea,” I replied to the delight of two grinning children. We all agreed
that they were delicious. The adults chatted for a bit while the now sugar-hyped
girls rearranged grandma’s house. I felt honored, loved, and appreciated.
Sunday,
May 14th-Mother’s Day
Although
this is typically a day of celebration, for those of us who have lost our moms,
it is a time to remember and revisit our relationship. It is a day filled with
memories and in some cases, harsh realities. It is a period of deep reflection
often resulting in opening the floodgates and releasing tidal waves of guilt, regret,
and raw emotion.
I woke up
Sunday morning with mom on my mind and immediately went into my office in
search of my favorite picture of her. As I ate breakfast and sipped my tea, I
stared mesmerized by her image as tears cascaded down my cheeks. My heart ached
with longing and monumental regret. When I was younger, I didn’t comprehend the
depth of her love or appreciate how blessed I was to have her as my mother. My
journey through life and the wisdom and insight it has bestowed upon me has
provided me with clarity and insight. I
now know that my mom loved me unconditionally with every fiber of her being and
every breath she took, even the last one. I asked myself if Mom could say the
same thing about me as a daughter. I didn’t like the answer.
My
relationship with mom was complicated, or so I thought. I now realize that it
was me that made it that way, not her. I loved her dearly, but I didn’t want to
be like her or end up the way she did. She was dependent on dad financially and
emotionally. Her life revolved around her husband and children. She never
wanted or needed more. She seemed content in her little cocoon. My parents
never traveled. As kids, we did take family summer vacations, but mainly to
neighboring states and nothing too exciting or out of the ordinary. They had no
sense of adventure. Mom never set foot on an airplane.
Dad died
in 1985, and mom’s heart and spirit were forever broken. She became reclusive.
She had no real friends. She sat in the house day after day, year after year
only leaving to go to the grocery store or walk the dog. She existed. My
brother and sister lived nearby and frequently visited her. They were able to
coax her out of the house for holidays and family celebrations. She became
deeply depressed. The house began to show signs of neglect and over time fell
into a state of disrepair. She didn’t care. She had lost hope. The dog began to
potty in the house. Most of the time, she didn’t even notice. All offers to
help were vehemently rejected.
In August
of 1997, I flew from Wenatchee, Washington to Great Neck, New York for mom’s 80th
birthday. I had not seen her in 12 years due to my financial situation
resulting from my divorce. I was shaken at the site of my childhood home masked
by the overgrown jungle of weeds and grass. I was overwhelmed by the stench as
I stepped inside to what smelled like a public urinal. My gag reflex almost got
the best of me, and in the middle of all this, stood mom. She was skin and
bones; a mere shadow of her former self. She grabbed me and surprisingly hugged
me with the strength of a world-class weight lifter as she cried with joy. The
sparkle returned to mom’s eyes as her four children gathered in their childhood
home to celebrate her birthday. As I boarded the plane to return home, mom,
begged me to stay. I couldn’t. My job and my kids were back in Wenatchee. It
broke my heart.
A few
short months later in April of 1998, I got a call that mom was in the hospital.
She had fallen in the house and had spent two-three days on the floor before my
sister had found her. Because of her physical condition and the unsanitary
state of her surroundings, the state intervened and declared her a neglected
senior thus making her a ward of the state. Our family was removed from the
equation, losing all say in medical matters and her well-being. It was a
devastating blow to all concerned. After she recovered enough, she was shipped
to a state run nursing home. After one day there, she asked my sister who was
visiting, if she would ever be able to return home. My sister replied no. My
mom hugged my sister, kissed her and said goodbye. She closed her eyes and
died; finally at peace for the first time since the day dad had left her. The
last years of her life should have been happy ones. They were not. Her children
had failed her.
My biggest
regret in life is my failure as her daughter. Why had I turned a blind eye to
the situation? Why did I think that my dysfunctional life and struggles were so
much more important than she was? I had a million excuses over the years: I
lived on the opposite coast; my own life was a mess. For years after the divorce,
I struggled as a single mom to make ends meet thus resulting in my 12-year hiatus
from her life. I thought I was doing my part by faithfully calling her every
Sunday and talking for hours. How could I have been so arrogant, stupid, and
wrong; I now ask myself?
At the
time Dad died, I was living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and I did invite mom to
live with me. The kids and I would have loved that. She wouldn’t even consider
it, and I just figured maybe it was too soon. In 1986, we were transferred to
Wenatchee, and I was a coast away from mom. On numerous occasions, I begged her
to come spend time with me and the kids. My brother and sister offered to bring
her. Again, she would not even consider it.
After I got divorced in 1992, mom made me a very generous offer. She
said that if the kids and I moved in with her we could live rent-free, and, in turn,
she would deed the house over to me. The house was worth over a million dollars
so it was enticing, but not practical. My kids were happy in Wenatchee, and my
counselor had advised me against any more trauma in their lives after the
divorce and being abandoned by their dad. My son was a junior in high school
and a varsity athlete. Uprooting him
would have been devastating. So, I stayed in Wenatchee for my kids’ sake and
left her alone and miserable. How could I have been so callous?
After my
mom’s death my aunt, her older sister, told me that that several times mom had
confided in her that she could count on her Valerie to rescue her from the
filth and squalor that had taken her prisoner. She told my aunt that Valerie
would never let her live in these conditions. It broke my heart because I did.
I beat myself up on a daily basis for my failure, as a daughter. It is the albatross
around my neck. It will follow me to my grave. I know the old cliché that says
“I did the best I could at the time,” but the truth is I didn’t do the best I
could! I could have, should have done better. I failed the one person in this
world who loved me more than life itself – just as I love my kids and
grand-kids. Mom, I am so very sorry. You were the best mom I could have ever asked
for, and I know that now.
My
three-grownup children all have families of their own while juggling demanding
careers. I understand this “been there, done that”. It is the way it is these
days for most families. While this is their time to shine in life, it is also
important to take a step back and realize how precious life is and how suddenly
it can slip away. Don’t assume that the people in your life know how you feel
about them. Honor and appreciate them every day even if only in thought or with
a small gesture or kind word. Remember that people get old, but they still need
to be loved and not forgotten. Moms are one of life’s greatest gifts, and in my
opinion, they should be declared a national treasure. Nobody is ever going to
love you like your mom! Don’t take your mom for granted the way I did. Being
old isn’t easy, believe me I know and someday you will too!
Valerie S.
May 22, 2017
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