May 1st. Today would have been my mom’s 70th birthday. I imagine we would have had a big party including all of her friends and family, with her spending most of her time being overjoyed by her only grandchild, my daughter A, charming everyone and being the center of attention. I can imagine the look on her face in all it’s glory. This is all pure speculation as she lost her battle with breast cancer what will be 6 years ago this coming June 1st. Losing my mom has been the hardest thing I have had to deal with in my life, especially since becoming a mother myself.
My mom never got to meet her granddaughter. In fact she never even knew there was a thought of a possible granddaughter in her future when she died. I never got to make that call to tell her that she was going to be a grandmother and hear her cry tears of joy. I didn’t get that mother-daughter advice about pregnancy and birth. My aunt threw me a baby shower, inviting my mom’s friend’s to make it seem like it would have been. It was wonderful, but everyone knew what was missing. There is no memory of the look on her face the first time she held my daughter. There are so many things that I, in a selfish way, feel like I was and will be deprived of without my mom’s physical self, and I can only happily and sadly – because both emotions come to play here – imagine what those events might have been like.
I’m not a religious person at all, so I have no solid belief of what happens after death; anything is possible. I do know that she is with me everywhere. Call it intuition. Call it a ghost. Call me crazy. I don’t care. It’s just something I know. I feel it. I feel her. It’s like a warm blanket on a cold night.
There are so many women who say they never want to be like their mother. If I’m half the mom she was, I’ll take it and wear it as a badge of honor. The funny thing is, is that I bet she was just as scared that she was screwing it up as I think I am. I think back to all of the trying times of my past. She seemed to always have it together – dealing with everything in the best way possible. I know as I got older I saw the cracks in her foundation, but she is the one that makes me believe I can be the mom that can roll with the punches and keep going – like her.
It generally sucks to not have a mom as a mom. There is no go-to for those parenting questions we all have, but may be too embarrassed to ask a friend. There are no, “Well, when you were that age…” stories to compare your child with yourself or a sibling. There will never be a lesson to teach her about all of the baby safety gadgets that didn’t exist when I was my daughter’s age. I would do anything for the image of my mom holding my daughter’s hand. I’ll just have to keep using my imagination.
A few days ago, my daughter picked up a photo of my mother that I’m re-framing, and told me it was a picture of me. I honestly didn’t know what to do. Cry? Smile? Correct her? All of the above is the answer, which led me to yet another long conversation with her about how she has a grandmother she’ll never meet. She’s 3. She doesn’t quite get it yet, but she will. There will be many of the same conversation. She knows that Grandma Gail is the reason her name is Abigail, and that all three of us have the same middle name. That amuses her, and I know it pleases my mom.
Happy Birthday, Mom!
