Sunday Snippet: The Ode to Mom Edition
It’s Mother’s Day–a day that always gives me a lump in my throat as I remember my mom. Not this year, but about every seven years, Mom’s birthday (May 13) lands on Mother’s Day, which makes the day even more bittersweet with memories of her reading aloud to us on camping trips and her humor and intelligence and sense of fun. It also reminds me of the numerous times she and I crossed swords because we were both so set in our thinking–I hope I’ve outgrown that. I’m so grateful for the ten days I got to spend with her in CA six months before she died. Those days, over 37 years ago, are etched in my mind and heart’s happy memories as a time when we really communicated and enjoyed each other’s company. They were even more of a gift because I had no idea she’d be gone from this Earth six months later.
If she’d lived, she’d be 98 years old today, but she died when she was only 60. I can’t even imagine Mom at 98 years old, although I can promise you, she’d be a totally unique 98-year-old. Picture dangly earrings, a long gypsy skirt, and a full-sleeved, colorful gauzy top. You see, Mom was born about 25 years too early. She should have been a hippie–she would’ve been great at it. I can so imagine her in Haight-Ashbury in the late ’60s, weaving daisies into her hair, dancing with bracelets and anklets jingling, and wishing peace and love to tourists and passersby–the ultimate flower child. The picture here says it all. My sis and I call it Mom’s Dead Picture, but actually she was just being dramatic and probably having a ball.
She was born in 1927–a lost soul in her late teens in post-WWII America, when soldiers were coming home to their GI housing, and women were expected to be housewives and mothers. She did that life because it was what was expected of her, but she never really fit in. Her ideas were too liberal; she could be outrageous, and she loved shocking people. She was a free spirit who didn’t fit the mold that had been made for her, and that disappointed hell out of my grandmother and my father. I remember my dad telling the story of coming home from work one day, expecting dinner to be on the table, the house to be neat and tidy, and us kids all scrubbed and ready for Daddy. Instead, the house was in disarray and supper wasn’t even started. Mom had pulled out the sofa bed and had all four us snuggled together while she read aloud to us. Dad was furious and Mom truly couldn’t understand what his problem was. He stormed out, and although I don’t personally remember the incident, I’m guessing Mom gave us kids a shrug and that inimitable grin and continued reading.
Not long after that, Dad left us, mostly, I think, because Mom just couldn’t be the woman he wanted her to be, and he couldn’t accept who she actually was. Once he was gone, she began working full time and going to nursing school full time–God only knows when the woman slept. I kinda think maybe she didn’t sleep for over two years. Money was scarce, and I know now how worried she always was about keeping a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. My grandparents helped out as they could, but Mother shouldered the biggest part of the burden of four young children and a husband who’d gone AWOL.
Yet, I don’t remember ever being afraid or worried–life was safe and secure. I thought everyone had pancakes or eggs for supper a couple of nights a week. Sunday night suppers were always grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup–I thought it was tradition. It never occurred to me it was economy. I wore my sisters’ hand-me-downs that my Aunt Alice carefully altered to fit, and I felt very grown-up. And didn’t everyone’s Grandpa show up a couple of times a week with a bag of groceries? Housecleaning fell to us kids, and we did chores while Mom was at work or school. It was simply our life, nothing out of the ordinary.
Mom studied on weekends–I have a vivid memory of my sister PJ quizzing her on anatomy while I read, curled up next to my mother on the sofa, squeezing close to her to avoid the place with the broken spring. I was amazed that she got almost every answer right. Today, I’m even more amazed–how did she do it? Study, work full time, take care of four children, and attend classes to get her nursing degree in just two years. I’m an empty-nester, and yet as I try to fit editing gigs, caring for two houses, helping with yard work, the gym, meal planning, and writing into one week, I’m in awe of Mom’s drive and determination.
We never went hungry, we were dressed in clean clothes, homework got checked, and she always made time if one of us needed to talk. What she didn’t make time for was arguing among ourselves–“Ten minutes to pout and then you work it out” was her rule. I realize now that she didn’t have time or energy for kid drama and temper tantrums. Can we blame her?
I miss my mom, especially on this day–Mother’s Day. To me, she’ll always be that zany, slightly off-center lady who was up for any new adventure. Perhaps that would have changed about her had she had the opportunity to grow older. But I like to believe she’d have been the 98-year-old woman in a flowy skirt who danced on a beach in the moonlight. I hope I’m becoming more like her in that way—freer of spirit… bolder. Happy Mother’s day, Mom, and Happy Birthday on Tuesday. You’ll be in my heart this week. I love you so much. I hope you and sister Kate are up there in heaven, dancing together in the moonlight.
Happy Mother’s Day to those of you who celebrate this day; warm wishes to those of you whose mother memories or relationships are not the best. Spend the day in a way that makes you happy.
Gratitude for This Week: House is painted and looks so pretty! Got my flower pots done; Deck is ready for summer; emailed with roomie, Carol–lovely! Get to spend today with our kids–always a reason to be thankful.
Stay well, don’t be afraid to speak out, always choose kindness, and most of all, mes amis, stay grateful!
4 Comments
Patricia Barraclough
My mom was born in 1923. She had the first of 6 children in less than 6 years with a few years break and 2 more close together. I don’t know how she did it and kept her sanity. I am the oldest. She did manage to convince the nuns to take me into kindergarten a year early. Marriages were so different back then. Like your parents, expectations of the woman’s role was not really as an equal partner. Many times dad made major family decissions without consulting her. The one that broke her heart happened right after I graduated from college. He sold his busines, sold our house without telling her, and informed her they were moving 2 hours away for his new job. He announced it to her and us at the dinner table. She loved that house and the community, plus most of our relatives lived nearby. The town they moved to was the coldest (as in unfriendly) place I have ever been. I was gone before they moved. Religiously and financially, divorce was not an option.
I was not the easiest of children. I was opiniated and driven. I was a good student and went for what I wanted. That was something my dad had difficulty with. I don’t think he could handle having a daughter advancing further than he did educationally and likely financially. Of course, having a different opinion than his was not acceptable. While I was in college, the relationship with my mom changed. We were still mother and daughter but we were friends. While the others were in school, we would sit and have tea and just talk. I think in a way she got to live some of her dreams through my experiences. I left for the Peace Corps a few weeks after graduation. I was gone three years and we wrote each other often. I was planning on a couple of months of traveling on my way home. However, 10 days in, I got notification from the U. S. Embassy in Singapore to call home. My mother was dying. I immediately flew home and was shocked to see her. She had not been ill, as far as I knew. She had been having vague pains and they did exploratory surgery. She had ovarian cancer which has spred everywhere and had reached the liver. They just closed her up and told us not to tell her she was dying. It had taken my dad a week to locate me. My mom had my information and he didn’t want to ask her and have to explain why. She died 4 weeks to the day after surgery. The doctor said he had never seen anyone fail that fast. She was only 47. It was even harder because we never got the chance to say goodbye. I am glad hospitals have changed their policies. Back then, they were strict about visiting hours and you could not stay with them even if they were dying.
She was such a lovely person and was cheated of all her children’s milestones. She never got to see her children marry, have grandchildren, and enjoy the company of her children as full adults. That was in 1971 and I still miss her so very often. There was so much I still wanted to talk about and so many times I could have used her advice. Every so often I am certain I get a whiff of her favorite perfume which hasn’t been made since the mid-70’s. It stirs so many memories and makes me think she is checking up on me.
Nan
Oh, my! What a story! I’m so sorry you lost your mom/friend so very young. My mom was young too. I’m sure when you get a waft of her perfume, it is her checking on you. What joy that must bring you. Hugs, Patricia!
Liz Flaherty
What a perfect tribute to Muriel, and what a lesson she was in joy. Happy Mother’s Day, my friend.
Nan
I wish you could’ve known her. I wish I hadn’t wasted so much time not knowing her. Hugs and happy Mother’s Day, my dear friend.