Mom was born May 30, 1920 and taken way too soon from all of us on November 17, 1977. I was a self-absorbed, broken young adult when she died. One detail I can clearly recall about her wake shames me even today. When someone who had recently hurt me came to pay her respects, I used my grief as a weapon against her.
"Somewhere I had misplaced my son, had lost sight of his memory, which was the one truth that remained after his death, and had instead followed something false, which was not worthy of him."
I realized just moments ago when starting to write this post why that sentence from Reservation Road hit me so hard when I read it several weeks back. My shame from 1977 returns full force by simply replacing the word "son" with "mother" and changing the pronouns. Who was that dunce just a few days from his twenty-eighth birthday?
Happy Mother's Day, Mom. When I return to honor your birthday later this month, I'll recount a more ennobling story. Promise.
Be it the upsetting emotions of grief, shame, bombast or embarrassment, etc. -- at the end of the day we are merely human. Imperfect beings who are often quick to judge, retaliate, punish, pout, ignore. Thank goodness for the "older and wiser" chapter of our lives. We err, we understand, we grow, we do better. A lifelong journey.
ReplyDeleteAnonymous; Thanks for the commiserating comment. On the days when "older and wiser" feels distant, the "young and foolish" memories sometimes overtake me.
DeletePat, - For me, during times of great loss my feelings know no bounds and have few restrictions. Making no claims to the pyschological profession and going strictly by my own feelings and experiences ... Anger, frustration, complete lack of understanding and zero answers to too many questions. I also like to believe that, if there is an afterlife, those that we've lost understand what it is each of us go through. Maybe it is a normal part of grieving and helps towards acceptance. There are times it has felt that way and all too many times when it hasn't.
ReplyDeleteBe well,
Bob
Bob; Thanks for the heartfelt comment. If my Mom was watching me back in 1977, I'm sure she also wondered who that dunce was.
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