I spent the better part of my early adult life at odds with her. Hating her. I blamed her and held her solely responsible for not protecting me. For not believing me. For choosing Him over me. I looked upon her with the eyes of a woman trapped in a child's memory, carrying a whore's shame. I put all my pain and all my ignorance and all my nastiness on her and she took it.
What I have learned over the course of my life is that forgiveness doesn't free the other person it frees you. I understand and can see what she was like and why she made the choices she did. What my father did to me was vile. What he did to her was equally vile. She made choices at a time when the choices were limited. But my post isn't about this.
My mother would have been 68 today. She was one of those people who went through the world always grateful to be alive. Always a smile on her face and a song in her heart. I made peace with her a few years before she died. We were settling into Mother with Grown Daughter roles. It was comforting. I was becoming my own woman and she was nodding in approval.
I miss her everyday. I can feel her presence when I am attending to the children or cooking a big fancy dinner.
I have 4 children not to prove I am a better mother than she...I am NOT. But to do what was not done for me...protect. My mother was selfless in a way that I am not. She was courageous in ways that I am not. She was strong and I am too. She was faithful and I am too.
This day is heavy with remembrance and celebration and few regrets. I loved her and she knew it. She loved me and I knew it. I know it.
There is more to say about my mother. For now I will settle for this post. I will spend the day thinking about her in prayer and perhaps go to her grave site and cry and laugh. Feeling her with me always.