I read a post by a friend of mine on Facebook this morning, acknowledging that she awoke at 5:00 a.m. today, in tears. After 17 years, she still misses her mother, so.
Reflecting on that message, I still feel the barbs of pain when I think that I lost my mother 21 years ago, and no Mother's Day is an easy celebration in her absence. Of course, the hard-core hurt didn't really hit until I became a Mother myself, but she's always been in my heart since that cold winter day she left us, February 4, 1988.
My daughters have always known that "Nana Jennie" is in Heaven with the Angels. I've told them that they met her and she held them, before they came to me. It's always been sweet comfort to feel the love they share when they talk about her memory with me. At the time we lost her, I had no idea of the love that would eventually come into my life. The absolute joy of holding a precious new life in my arms, cradling their future.
As they grow and their hearts and minds are developing, a funny story that occurred years ago comes to mind. When I was a young teen, my parents & I watched that Joan Crawford movie "Mommy Dearest". I recall being completely appalled at the way that woman treated her children, though as I grew up, I learned that there are too many children who suffer at the hands of parents like that...but I digress.
At the end of the movie, while the credits were rolling, my mom told me to change the channel, and I sarcastically (who ME?) replied, "Yes, mommy dearest". My wonderfully humorous mom then picked up a folded pair of socks from a nearby laundry pile she'd just folded, and threw it at me. Hit me square in the forehead, a perfect shot.
I shared this story with my girls a few years ago after we all caught the tail end of that infamous movie on the telly one evening. When Monika heard the recollection, she locked it into her brain, and uses the phrase anytime she needs to reply to me in her own sarcastic (who HER?) way. I love that she found the laughter in that story, that she gets a piece of who my mother was without ever having physically met her.
My biggest tragedy is in raising my children without Jennie. But my greatest fear of their never knowing her is nipped in the bud with every story I tell them, and every word that they store in their hearts about the incredible woman who raised me. She had her faults, humans usually do. But her memory, her effort, and her frustration with me (who ME?) will never be lost. In Monika & Jennifer, she will carry on. As it should be.
One final note: When I was pregnant with Monika, we toiled over "baby names" for months before deciding upon hers. In wanting to hold my mother close to my first born, I gave her my mom's middle name, Lee. With Jennifer, I decided upon a variation of Jennie so as to give both of my girls the spirit of Jennie Lee. Respectively, they are Monika Lee & Jennifer Marie. I know I've succeeded, as I am reminded daily of her--not only in their names, but in their smiles, their actions, and their love for their own mother. That circle of life thing again, you know?
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4 comments:
My husband says he knows both of my parents through my stories of them. Selfishly, I wish they could know him.
This post was lovely. Mac was five when my mom died, and though we lived with my folks, he doesn't remember her. This makes me sad because he was her sunshine and she his! He used to tell me he like to hug Gramma more, I had too many bones!
You are the reason I wrote this this morning... :-)
Don't fret it, you have the memory of Mac and his grandmother, and you get to recall it with every sun-shining day. Keep sharing it with him-something tells me he doesn't mind.
Have a wonderful Mother's Day, boney Ellen!
I have Elmo arms. What can I say?
Yes, Mac doesn't mind stories about his gramma or his grampa, my dad lived until Mac was a freshman. When he died, Mac was undone. As was I...
Happy Mother's Day to you too!
Funny, my husband bought me a Mom's Day card. I asked him why, since I'm not the mom of his kids, and he said, "I see you mother every day. You're good at it."
Hm.
Loving being your muse!
I don't know what compelled me to read your blog tonight, but I'm glad I did. Maybe it's because Mark is away on business & I often get sad & feel melancholy. Anyway, this post, of course, moved me the most. The others are fabulous, too, but you understand why this one resonates with me. I LOVED the line where you wrote...your mother held your daughters before they were sent to you....how beautiful!!! I never thought that way before, but I'm going to now. It's heartwarming to think my mom held my children before they were sent to me.
Last week, Rita & Monique, my daughter in-law, came over for an apple pie making demonstration!! While giving them tips that one can't write on a recipe, Monique asked where I had learned to make my pie crust. My mother, of course!! I have to remind myself to remember the good memories over the bad. I just have to dig deeper & think a little harder, but they are there. I was only 7 when she first got sick, so naturally most of the "good" was when I was so young. Your post reminded me to remember the "good" & pass on the "good" memories. I often get caught up on the "bad", that I need to focus & share the wonderful memories I DO remember!!
I, too, passed on my mother's name...Rita was her middle name....
Thank you, Camille for your blog. I wish you would write more!! It's as beautiful as you!! xoxo.... Laura
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