I had a good mother but she and I did not have the type of relationship that I would have liked. We didn’t share intimate secrets or inside jokes. She wasn’t the first person I would think of to call when I had a dilemma. I loved her dearly but I didn’t know her at all.
It’s taken me a long time to be able to admit that my mother and I were not close, especially since she has been gone for over three years.
My mother was a sweet and giving person. She taught kindergarten or third grade my whole life. She loved to celebrate each and every holiday with gusto. She sent heartfelt greeting cards and made the best chocolate chip cookies on the planet. Her motto was a cliche that I grew to hate: c’est la vie because it became her “go to” response to EVERYTHING.
My mother was a very intelligent woman and I can recall hearing my father comment many times on her high IQ, but she didn’t talk very much.
I don’t think she knew how to express herself.
Until I realized that, she seemed disinterested, oblivious and even intimated by me. I know she must have had a lot of opinions, but she didn’t share them, even after much probing.
There were nightly conversations in our home on a variety of topics ranging from entertainment and politics to current events and religion and it was always my father, sister and me having the discussions, while my mother sat quietly on the sidelines not contributing a word.
Was it our fault?
Did we not include her enough?
Did she think she couldn’t relate?
Did she feel as though her opinion didn’t matter to us?
It did. Very much.
She appeared to be listening and taking it all in, but there was zero exchange.
I was once at a job for more than two years before she ever asked me what it was that I did.
I can accept the things my mother was, but to this day I cannot accept the things that she was not.
I wish we had both tried harder.
If my mother blogged or even kept a hand written diary when I was Lucas’ age, I feel like I would have been privy to a woman I don’t feel like I knew. I would have learned of her inner most thoughts and feelings on motherhood, dreams for me and herself. I would be able to read about her passions, joys, sorrows, strengths and weaknesses and love for me.
I would have very much appreciate, benefited from and cherished a Letters For Tonya blog.