Hey Mom,
I miss you. I’m glad you went on to your new life, and I miss you here.
Sharing your last months and weeks with you hurt. I know you were born
into waiting arms. In the place and time where your new life eagerly awaited
you, in the way all new life is welcomed.
You were the most complicated person I will ever know. You gave the best
gifts and delivered the hardest blows. I will always choose to remember you
as the mom who wanted the best for her family. You did, at any cost.
You were raised in a difficult situation. It left you with scars that you hid.
With trauma that you ignored. With demons on one shoulder and angels on
the other. You raised your sisters. You kept house, kept order, kept peace.
You kept up appearances. You didn’t ask for help, would there have been
help? Mom, I want you to know Grandma was not your responsibility. Mom,
they failed you. Then you failed me. And I love you.
I can’t imagine why you put up the colored curtains. The shear panels that
served as filters so not a single person could see the burden that you bore.
Mental illness is a cruel mistress. You hid her well behind the filters of a
perfectly clean home, a Godly life, a family that looked like a fairy tale all the
time. None of us dared defy the mask we wore for you. To step out from
behind the curtain. You convinced us that we were superior. We were the
ones who did all things right. We were the family who worked hardest and
smartest, who had the most right to celebrate. We claimed the most
tragedy. So many times, I wished I could scream, “but I like muddy shoes”!
I didn’t know that winning that contest was how you kept your train on the
tracks.
I want you to know most of all how you taught me. Your volatile nature
taught me when to duck. It sharpened my sense of self preservation. You
taught me lessons your mother taught you. You taught me to love with
fierceness and commitment. With passion and loyalty. You taught me that
the only person that I could always rely on was me. The sort of
independence you taught meant people will hurt you if you need them.
Mom, it was hard to keep up. The constant push and pull were exhausting.
What you did was grind down all my rough edges. You prepared me for the
trial by fire that would give me the sharpest edge I could have.
I learned to love words and their importance from you. You introduced me
to books. You didn’t care what I read; you once told me that I wouldn’t
know skillful writing if I never read bad writing. Hey mom, that’s true all
around. I learned that words could build nations, that they can start wars. I
learned that there is power in clarity, and refuge in the cloak of ambiguity. I
learned to hide in a book until any storm was over. I learned that in every
book there is a rainbow, a way out and a way home.
You were wise with experience. You were rich in confidence. You were
blessed with endurance. The very qualities that made it impossible to give
you the soft landing that I wanted you to have. There you go teaching me
again. You fought until your thoughts wouldn’t make sense. You fought
death as hard as you could, your brilliant, ravaged brain keeping you from
the poison they served you in the form of food. Your body grew desperately
weak, and through it all your brain fought for conversation, for
remembering. You lived your life the absolute best way for you. You
inspired me to keep fighting to own my life. To live my truth. You taught me
that the soft landing I wanted for you was about me. Your truth was to fight
until the end. It was about you living and dying on your own terms.
Just like you I won’t give up, like you, I will love fiercely. My house will
always be clean with books on the shelf. I will ask for help when I need it, I
will let go of the things that don’t serve me. I will let people see me fail. Your
death has given me the space I needed for clarity. In your new life you are
free from pain, and confusion. I draw you close in my memories, and I hold
you tight. These memories are free from pain and confusion. They are
memories of pure love.
Momma, keep the dogs busy until I see you again. I love you.
Chris