Thoughts

This past weekend would have been my mother's 81st birthday. I lost her right before Halloween in 2000. I don't care what anyone says...the pain never goes away. Time and distance makes it better, but it never totally goes away. My mom was a complicated person. She was a strong woman. She had strong opinions, and wasn't afraid to voice them. Alot of the time, it was hurtful. To say she ruled the roost, is putting it mildly. I remember the woman who worked hard at her job and at trying to make a good home for us. But I also see a manipulative, overbearing woman, who put on a front for people outside the house, who verbally, and once, that I can remember, physically abused me. I was the "fat, ignorant, disappointment" in her life. All my life, I strived for her approval. I longed to hear her say she was proud of me. She wrote it in a birthday card once, but never voiced it to me. I think she was unhappy, and wanted everyone else around her to be unhappy with her. She was the queen of guilt trips. It's too bad that I didn't get frequent flyer miles for all the guilt trips I was sent on. I could afford to vacation anywhere I wanted now...and take all my family with me! But all wasn't bad. There were the times when she and I would sit down together and she would teach me the things that were important to her, and are now important to me. She taught me to crochet, when I was a child. The first afghan I ever made, completely by myself, was when I was about 12 years old, and I gave it to my grandma. My mom taught me to love crafting, and I have passed this on to Lindsay. I can remember learning to cook, when I was barely tall enough to see over the counter. The first pie I ever made, (it was a lemon meringue) was for my first crush...my oldest brother's best friend. I was about 9 years old, and when mom was helping me take it out of the oven, I dropped it on the floor. We scraped it up into the pan, and he ate some anyway. I was devastated, but my mom was there to comfort me. I remember those things. I remember, the vacations, we went on as a family. The trips to Oklahoma, the trips to the ocean,and the camping trips. Things weren't always bad, but when they were...they were just as unforgettable. She's been gone now for going on 9 years. I went back to California when she passed, to help clean out her house. For 10 days, my brothers and I went through the things her and my dad (who passed in 1997) had collected all their lives. What we couldn't sell, we donated to churches. My brothers took my dad's tools, and some of the things from the house. I didn't want anything. The things my mom wanted me to have, she gave me when she was alive. I can remember going through her stuff, and not feeling anything. I remember talking about it with my brother, and telling him that instead of a feeling of loss, I was relieved. Is that not sad? I loved my mom. I felt guilty for leaving her in California when I moved to New York. But I was relieved she was gone. I didn't have to worry about how she would react to me anymore. My brothers felt the same way. As bad as she could be, she was still my mom, and I still loved her. Now that I have had years away, I am seeing her for how she really was. It doesn't make me love her any less, but it does make me feel sorry for her. She was a confused, unhappy, complicated person. She was a person who, to protect her own feelings, hurt others and pushed them away. It was like she was afraid of letting anyone get close. Not even her family. But, I believe she can hear me now, and she can really listen to what I am saying. And I want her to know that I forgive her, and I miss her. Above all else, I still love her.