Today was my mom's birthday, and I did some thinking about how she might feel about my life and decisions of late. Her main thing was always that I just be happy, and I think she'd like that I've figured out that I am happy, right where I am. She wouldn't like that I'm staying in South Carolina for an indefinite period of time, but she'd be proud of the life I'm building.
She'd help me move in a week and half, and she'd be glad I'm taking good steps to get in a better financial situation. She'd be glad I'm dating someone who is good to me. She'd like the way I'm trying to get along with my dad and sister. She'd like the way I hang out with my nephew (although there hasn't been as much time for that lately, what with the moving and all). She'd like that I'm giving a bunch of her stuff to the Tatter's Guild, and she'd like that I'm doing crafty stuff, even if it is knitting right now, which she hated. She'd like that I kept so much of her stuff, including all the half-finished afghans that one day I'll finish and it will be like we made them together.
She'd laugh that I remembered her birthday this year, when she's gone, but my sister had to remind me every single year she was alive. She'd be proud that my boss asked me to stick around for another possible grant b/c I'm just that good (that's right, I said it). She'd be proud that I got into grad school too.
I wonder if, for the rest of my life, every time I look at myself, my progress if you will, I'll see it through her eyes. That's not to say that we always agreed on what was best for me, but I wonder if I'll ever stop thinking, "What would Mom say about this?" She's my inner voice, my compass, and I miss her every day.
When I was an undergrad, I took a Christian theology course. One of the things we read and studied was prayer, what prayer really meant. I really liked the idea that prayer was doing things mindfully, that anything could be prayer. Sometimes I feel like that, that every moment of my life is lived in prayer to my mother, to who she was and who she thought I could be.
She'd help me move in a week and half, and she'd be glad I'm taking good steps to get in a better financial situation. She'd be glad I'm dating someone who is good to me. She'd like the way I'm trying to get along with my dad and sister. She'd like the way I hang out with my nephew (although there hasn't been as much time for that lately, what with the moving and all). She'd like that I'm giving a bunch of her stuff to the Tatter's Guild, and she'd like that I'm doing crafty stuff, even if it is knitting right now, which she hated. She'd like that I kept so much of her stuff, including all the half-finished afghans that one day I'll finish and it will be like we made them together.
She'd laugh that I remembered her birthday this year, when she's gone, but my sister had to remind me every single year she was alive. She'd be proud that my boss asked me to stick around for another possible grant b/c I'm just that good (that's right, I said it). She'd be proud that I got into grad school too.
I wonder if, for the rest of my life, every time I look at myself, my progress if you will, I'll see it through her eyes. That's not to say that we always agreed on what was best for me, but I wonder if I'll ever stop thinking, "What would Mom say about this?" She's my inner voice, my compass, and I miss her every day.
When I was an undergrad, I took a Christian theology course. One of the things we read and studied was prayer, what prayer really meant. I really liked the idea that prayer was doing things mindfully, that anything could be prayer. Sometimes I feel like that, that every moment of my life is lived in prayer to my mother, to who she was and who she thought I could be.
Comments
She would be proud.
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