Mom died a year ago today…my brother Mark, six months ago. Daddy died two years before Mom…a dear friend and spiritual mentor close behind him. A kaleidoscope of grief made it difficult to face each death with distinction. So much change in such a short span of time made life as I knew it unrecognizable.
I once heard that losing parents as an adult is akin to watching a great library burn to the ground. My greatest resource in life is suddenly gone. I not only grieve the death of my parents, but the last remnants of my childhood for suddenly I am the new voice of wisdom. A generation has moved on, their hand reaching backwards fully expecting mine to reach forward to take the baton they are passing…whether I want it or not.
The shock wave of my brother’s death is diminishing and I find myself returning to a grief interrupted, life in absentia of mom.
Mom was my best friend, confidant, and safest haven…all descriptions incapable of conveying who she was (and in my heart still is) to me. Mom was the one with whom I was my naked self. That is to say, she overlooked a lot and withstood the abuse of my own pain. With Mom I never pretended to be more than who I was on any given day. She wanted me to feel safe, intuitively knowing I was hurting and hiding from other relationships. The thing is – Mom saw the real me.
She was my biggest fan and the number one hopeful that I would find my own voice. She looked for every word I wrote and never failed to let me know that she felt they were, well, anointed. She once told me that my writing “made an easy connection between my message and me as a person.” That meant a lot to me. I was her favorite writer, teacher, and singer of songs. We all deserve moms like this!
For many years, I’d go to visit my mom and sleep a lot. I usually showed up at her door feeling spent. It wasn’t the length of the drive…11 hours is easy for me to do in one stretch. It was the way I lived my life. I was always trying to live up to an expectation that I could never meet. I was angry, bitter, depressed. When the masks were wearing thin and I’d show up at Mom’s ready to rip them off.
Mom drew poison out of me like a healing poultice. She’d woo details of my morbid self-view onto the table and then dismantle them one-by-one. I think it caused her pain, but she knew the wounds needed to be lanced and so she did.
Mom brought me out of my hellish circle of self and she did it by simply needing me. She didn’t lecture against self-pity or use back-handed methods of correction. She knew I was too self-focused, but rather than asking me to shift my focus (causing me to feel guilty when I was unable to do so) she would just need me. She knew to draw upon the real Susan. She’d have a problem she couldn’t solve, a question she couldn’t answer, a need that required my response. She’d ask me to explain a perplexing thought, what the Word had to say on a given subject, or simply ask me to sing her a song – as though only my voice could soothe her own unrest. She did it often and she did for me. I have no doubt my mother knew more than I…but she chose to need me for my sake…and that changed my life.
Mom lived to see my evolution. She saw me walk away from depression. She watched me make the painful transition out of a ministry position I was afraid to let go of even though I no longer fit the role. She witnessed the transformation of my marriage to Michael and Michael played her his new song entitled, “I Miss You” (inspired by how much Mom missed holding Daddy’s hand as she fell asleep each night).
Mom was the first person privy to our plan to sell the house, quit the jobs, and hit the road in full time pursuit of doing what we love (she said we were living her dream). Mom told me there was only one more thing she wanted in life – to see Michael and I – in person and in love. We had the notion to visit her just one week before her unexpected passing.
Mom, I love you and I have never thanked you enough for seeing me through. Because of you, I am a much better me. I still reach for your hand daily…and miss you dearly.
Susan, this written memorial is so beautiful. It made my heart swell with fond loving memories of my own mother and the everlasting gifts and sacrafices she gave for me. I would be writing a page or more to say how much I related to the relationship you had with your mother and how thankful Iam that you can put words to that everlasting, ever loving, place in our hearts. always loving you friend.
Thanks, Doreen. I know that we share kindred loss. Your mom was to you as mine was to me. We were and are blessed to have had mom’s who believed in us…and blessed to have the comfort of true friendship in their absence. I love you, my friend, and am one with you in both loss and gain.