January 13th, 1942
While I would not be born until 1970, this is perhaps the date that had the greatest impact on my life. My mother's birth and the life that followed, its highs and lows, its pleasures and its pains, created the person who taught me more about life than anyone else. Cancer took her from this world in 2004, at the age of 62 and my life was forever impacted.
I won't wax poetic, because everyone's mother is special in their own way. Each person views theirs as a cut above and it's understandable. Moms teach us compassion, nurturing and unconditional love. My mother taught me to care for those who are weaker, because they need it more, but never turn my back on the strong ones, because they need it too. From the time I was young, I watched her choose others over herself and until the day she died, she did for others, not always because they needed it, but many times, simply because it gave her joy to see others happy. She was a provider, protector, and always a teacher. She had her faults, like all of us and like all of us, she didn't always learn from them, but she did teach from them.
The past 12 and a half years, since her death, have not been easy for me.. Those who know me, knew my love for my mother and hers for me. She loved to praise me, but many times she saw the same faults in me, she hated about herself. Giving of one's money, their time or even their love is common. It's what family and friends do that make them family and friends. What my mother did was give of herself and what she never taught me was how rarely it's reciprocated and just how much it takes out of you. This is not to say she was not selfish at times and it's not to say I wasn't, but what I've learned over the last few years is how much she was willing to do for others, without every expecting and many times with full knowledge it wasn't appreciated. While she was dying, she sacrificed much more for others, to leave them with happiness, than anyone sacrificed for her. I'd like to think my efforts reached hers, but I know they pale in comparison.
Recently, I've fallen on hard times and I think back to the past, when she'd sit down to calm me with a little chat, that would invariably end up at us laughing at 2am. Little did I know how much strength, courage and care she was instilling in me. What amazed me most about her death, was how others reacted. While she lived, they flocked and knelt by her bedside, taking every ounce of her strength, so that they could be remembered. While I did the same so that I'd never forget a single moment I'd shared with her. Soon after she died, they were gone, we separated and the family, friends and everything I'd known, was gone.
A few times over the past two months, as I struggled with loneliness and questioned my self worth, I thought of all the times she stood up for those in need. She helped them through it, but then didn't stop. She continued, checked in, made sure they were sheltered, fed and comforted. She invited more people into our home for a night, who stayed for a week, or two, or a summer, than anyone I have ever known. She made sure their time was relaxed and that they had everything they could have dreamed. She did so without any expectations, other than they'd come again. She feared those she cared about were ever in need. I thought about that and how she taught me to care for those who we cared for, even when they were at their worst, even to us. I thought about my actions and those of others and I was saddened, because she'd be so let down by those around me. She spoke often about the selfishness that surrounded her, but she never let it change her.
Today she would have been 75 and I think back to two days before she died, when she told me she worried about me, because she knew my compassion for others wasn't shared with those closest to me. As I sit in a strange house, thinking of her life, I think about how if things were different, how no matter what, she'd be by my side and the worse things got for me, the closer she'd be, no matter how much she hurt. She taught me so much, but she never truly taught me how much she hurt by giving so much of herself and never seeing even a sliver of it in return. I know now and my biggest regret is never being able to tell her that I understand, because her last years would have been so much less painful. Maybe my pain is to remind me of her. As if I could ever forget, like all those others.
While I would not be born until 1970, this is perhaps the date that had the greatest impact on my life. My mother's birth and the life that followed, its highs and lows, its pleasures and its pains, created the person who taught me more about life than anyone else. Cancer took her from this world in 2004, at the age of 62 and my life was forever impacted.
I won't wax poetic, because everyone's mother is special in their own way. Each person views theirs as a cut above and it's understandable. Moms teach us compassion, nurturing and unconditional love. My mother taught me to care for those who are weaker, because they need it more, but never turn my back on the strong ones, because they need it too. From the time I was young, I watched her choose others over herself and until the day she died, she did for others, not always because they needed it, but many times, simply because it gave her joy to see others happy. She was a provider, protector, and always a teacher. She had her faults, like all of us and like all of us, she didn't always learn from them, but she did teach from them.
The past 12 and a half years, since her death, have not been easy for me.. Those who know me, knew my love for my mother and hers for me. She loved to praise me, but many times she saw the same faults in me, she hated about herself. Giving of one's money, their time or even their love is common. It's what family and friends do that make them family and friends. What my mother did was give of herself and what she never taught me was how rarely it's reciprocated and just how much it takes out of you. This is not to say she was not selfish at times and it's not to say I wasn't, but what I've learned over the last few years is how much she was willing to do for others, without every expecting and many times with full knowledge it wasn't appreciated. While she was dying, she sacrificed much more for others, to leave them with happiness, than anyone sacrificed for her. I'd like to think my efforts reached hers, but I know they pale in comparison.
Recently, I've fallen on hard times and I think back to the past, when she'd sit down to calm me with a little chat, that would invariably end up at us laughing at 2am. Little did I know how much strength, courage and care she was instilling in me. What amazed me most about her death, was how others reacted. While she lived, they flocked and knelt by her bedside, taking every ounce of her strength, so that they could be remembered. While I did the same so that I'd never forget a single moment I'd shared with her. Soon after she died, they were gone, we separated and the family, friends and everything I'd known, was gone.
A few times over the past two months, as I struggled with loneliness and questioned my self worth, I thought of all the times she stood up for those in need. She helped them through it, but then didn't stop. She continued, checked in, made sure they were sheltered, fed and comforted. She invited more people into our home for a night, who stayed for a week, or two, or a summer, than anyone I have ever known. She made sure their time was relaxed and that they had everything they could have dreamed. She did so without any expectations, other than they'd come again. She feared those she cared about were ever in need. I thought about that and how she taught me to care for those who we cared for, even when they were at their worst, even to us. I thought about my actions and those of others and I was saddened, because she'd be so let down by those around me. She spoke often about the selfishness that surrounded her, but she never let it change her.
Today she would have been 75 and I think back to two days before she died, when she told me she worried about me, because she knew my compassion for others wasn't shared with those closest to me. As I sit in a strange house, thinking of her life, I think about how if things were different, how no matter what, she'd be by my side and the worse things got for me, the closer she'd be, no matter how much she hurt. She taught me so much, but she never truly taught me how much she hurt by giving so much of herself and never seeing even a sliver of it in return. I know now and my biggest regret is never being able to tell her that I understand, because her last years would have been so much less painful. Maybe my pain is to remind me of her. As if I could ever forget, like all those others.
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