I think about my mother almost daily. I would guess that I probably think about her more now than when she was alive. Oh, I wasn't inattentive to my mom at all; I guess I just took her for granted. But I can't help but focus on her even more when May rolls around. May was Mom's month. She was born in May, 1922; we honored her every Mother's Day in May; and she died in May. That fits her. She lived a full cycle and she tidied it up before she left on the last day of May, 2006.
I use the word "tidied" because Mom was tidy--her house, her wardrobe, her make-up, her hair. She insisted on tidiness. Rarely would she leave the house without every bed made, every dish washed, every thing in the house in place and everything on her as well. Like I stated, she was tidy.
Now, I must say she didn't chose to leave this world on that last day of May. But it happened. And just as she left her house tidy and then some, she left this earth at a time that was tidily wrapped--like a period at the end of a sentence; or maybe an exclamation point.
To me her life was an exclamation point. She was one talented woman and mother. With her abilities, had she been born later, one would not have been surprised to see her as an executive of a large company. She had the skills to lead; she had the skills to get cooperation; she had the skills to multi-task; and she had the skills to get to know people and get them to do things.
However, she was born in a time when women's roles were to hold the fort down, to raise a family, to do the things necessary to keep the home running smoothly. Yet, even then, she had the personality to use the skills she had and run our household of 6 plus a dog with great ability.
She, along with my dad, started out their adult lives with little, but they had the desire and drive to better themselves. Reaching their goals was hard--they both worked long hours and taught us by example to be successful. There was a competitive side to them that they used to light the fire of achievement in themselves. And we kids all caught that competitive spirit. Because of them and their example, we didn't mind putting in the labor to achieve our own successes. Or maybe we didn't realize that there was another way to approach life, family, careers. Working long hours was what one did to do a good job.
Her long hours of work did not stop her from making us feel the unconditional love she had for us. Although she was a busy mom, she loved us and showed it through words and actions. I'm not sure how many times my sister and I went to bed at night leaving Mom sewing in the den. Then miraculously when we woke up a new skirt or dress, perfectly made, hung proudly on a door, crisply ironed, and ready for us to wear that morning. Amazing with that exclamation point!
She has been gone since May 31, 2006 and even eight years later, I still miss her. I miss hearing her call "Leta" with a definite
pronunciation of the letter T in my name. Most people, including me,
will soften that T into more like a D sound. When I say it or hear it said with that T sound, I think of her.
I miss her frequent phone calls to check on my family. I miss her encouragement. I miss going to see her. I miss her funny stories and questions--"Leta, how do you dust with all these things displayed on your furniture." Actually, I even miss her calling us to the kitchen to help.
Like I said, she was a multi-task maniac. She never missed a beat to get us involved in the many tasks of keeping a tidy house. For example, many Saturday nights when I was young and my oldest two siblings were out, my other sister and I would gather around the television after supper to watch Saturday Night at the Movies on our black and white TV. Mom would be at her sewing machine a few feet away, busy sewing or mending or cutting out a pattern. Then when a commercial came on, she would have us jump up and run to the kitchen (a few steps away) with her leading the way to wash and dry the dishes--by hand of course. It might have taken a few commercials to get it all done, but it did get done and rather painlessly, although I'm sure I protested at the time.
We have laughed many times when we talk about how Mom would get us all up on a Saturday morning. She would come through our rooms announcing, "10 (
plus or minus a few) wagon loads of day have already gone by." Or "You're burning daylight" meaning get up out of bed--now. So, you say, "What's the matter with that?" I'll tell you--it was usually before 8:00 a.m. when she made her rounds. She, I'm sure, had been up since at least 6:00 and when you are up, I guess you think everyone is up or at least should be. No need to tell you what we did then, but I will. We got UP!
But, to her, there were things that needed to be done at our house! There were things to do, places to go, and people to see (but not until the chores were done!)
The funny part of this is, although a teenager at the time, I don't know that my siblings and I questioned it. Well, maybe we did question it but it was the way things were. But whenever I spent the night with a girl friend on a Friday night, I was always amazed that when we woke up, it might be as late as 11:00 or maybe even noon! Hmmm. I guess not every household was "burning daylight." But with Mom, the longer you sleep, the less time you have to do what needs to be done or what you want to do. That was what she did; so that's what we did.
It was done, however, in love. She was training us to meet our responsibilities by love and example. This love for us was unconditional which of course did not mean there were no rules, no discipline, no boundaries. We had those. Mother saw to that. There were high expectations in that house. Of course, it was showered with love.
A quote I found from Erich Fromm says, "The mother-child relationship is paradoxical...It requires the most intense love on the mother's side, yet this very
love must help the child grow away from the mother, to become fully
independent." How true. As a mother, I was so enamored with the beauty of my own little babies, the perfection of their bodies, and the joy of each stage they went through. I loved those babies so much it hurt. I'm sure you can relate. It is intense. But that is the job of parents--to love them and to guide them toward independence. I believe my mother achieved that. She loved us fiercely and she guided us to that independence that was necessary to become not just independent adults but also successful as well. She did all that while instilling us with high standards and high hopes and supplying plenty of love.
So May was all about Mom. Her having a birthday in May plus our celebrating Mother's Day made May a very special month. Then when Mom was 55 years old, she became a grandmother for the 7th time but for the first time for me making May a special time for another reason as well--my first daughter was also born. In fact, she was born just the day before my mom's birthday. That's been a few years for sure, but it is one I will never forget, as you mothers well know. Actually, fathers, too, but in a different way. I remember after that sweet baby girl finally got here, my mom and my sister-in-law came to visit us at the hospital the next day--Mom's birthday. (We didn't go to the hospital, have a baby, and the next day go home in 1977. By 1981, we did.) Nevertheless, they were there to visit me and see the baby. Maybe they were going to go eat lunch for her birthday; I don't remember.
One thing I do remember is telling my mom happy birthday and telling her how I wished that Holly had been born on her birthday. Then I quickly added--"I mean, I wish your birthday had been the day before because I wouldn't want to think about going through that again!" Well, of course, I did go through that again. In fact, two more times, but not the next day. Way too soon to think about "birthing a baby!"
But likely our relationship changed somewhat on that occasion, maybe it deepened. I had joined the sorority of moms and gave her baby a baby! (Mom was the baby of her family as was I.) Having a child creates a bond no doubt but it also equalizes the mother/daughter equation somewhat. By the time I had become a mother, Mom was well acquainted with the ways relationships change. She was also well aware that her children may or may not use the same techniques as she did to raise their own children. The adage "Imitation is the best form of flattery" and its antithesis may have been very personal to her.
My generation and the younger ones now realize that child-rearing is an ever-changing phenomenon. New authorities pop up; new books are written proclaiming the latest and best way to deal with children; and attitudes and parental actions change. But, you know, that adage packs a powerful punch. Honestly, who isn't at least a little bit flattered if someone does something in the manner you do because you do it.
I think insecurity enhances that feeling in me and maybe Mom. She was a very young mother, and likely a little insecure about certain things. She was only 18 when she had her first child. But like they say about a building, she had good bones. Her "bones" consisted of good common sense as well as a sharp brain. So as she grew into an adult, she grew significantly in her viewpoints and attitudes. She was always willing to learn. In fact, she kept a dictionary under her kitchen table in case there was a word she didn't know in the morning newspaper. She believed in education and made sure to instill in her four kids the necessity of graduating from college.
The fact that all four of us graduated and took post graduate hours proves that we bought into her belief. In fact, even all of her grandchildren earned a college degree. Ten out of ten is pretty darn good. And those ten grandchildren loved her. There was a special bond between them. Mom could always relate to young adults. So naturally as my children grew, so did their love and adoration of her. She was so supportive and positive to all of them.
In spite of all this love she gave and received, I think she wished she had done some things differently. (Don't we all?) But the fact is, she was an amazing mother. I knew that; my siblings knew that. But I'm not sure she always knew that. Some of us frequently second guess ourselves and I know she did. On occassion, she would confide in me telling me that I was a much better parent than she was. No, I wasn't; I wish I were more like her in many ways. I am thrilled when someone says I'm like her in this way or that. Oh, I wish I truly were.
My wonderful and sweet mom had so much love and so many talents and she never stopped sharing them. Even in her 80s she would make her famous bread and give it to neighbors, friends, or anyone who may have needed a lift. (It was that good!) She continued to mend and sew if one of us (especially her grandkids) needed something made or repaired. She continued to be interested and concerned about us, her friends, and the world. She could have fun--lots of fun, and be fun; she could laugh; she could tell some good stories; she was kind; she was loving; she was tidy.
I miss her.
So
that brings me to this morning and Dad. I remember this story so
clearly because it was so Dad. One time Mom got home from grocery
shopping at her local big box store and was examining her receipt which
she did frequently. However, this time she noticed that the clerk had
not charged her for the cokes. As she also frequently did, she asked my
dad about it--what should she do? It amounted to probably $2 or $3.