Today is the one year anniversary of my mom's death. You can say her passing or demise or whatever, but I discovered when she died that I hate all those euphemisms. It doesn't matter how you say it, the facts are still the same. Being an atheist, I don't really believe in an afterlife, at least not the way most people think of it. I think her atoms are still here, banging around, and her energy is now coursing through something else.
It seems selfish, but today is a pretty big taking stock day for me. Maybe I should be thinking of her more, but I mean, she's gone, so what's she got going on? Alternatively, my whole life changed when she died. The consequences of those changes have been an odd combination of predictable and completely unexpected.
My sister and I are closer than ever, which has been a welcome change from our previously surly and reluctant exchanges. Turns out that when your mom dies and your dad has a stroke, you're pretty happy to have a sister to share the burden. Plus, we've both grown up some and I'd like to think we're not such jerks anymore.
The dad situation has further complicated things, and I think the "wow, I'm an adult" moments have arrived at a rapid pace because of it, but they were already bowling me over before his stroke. My mom was the parent I primarily turned to when I had no idea what to do next, and even though my dad was awesome after her death, it felt different somehow. I've gained a lot of confidence this year from figuring out things on my own. This is especially true when it's something I know I would have asked her about and that fell within her wide skill range, i.e. installing my ceiling fan. She would have been delighted to know that I'm not a helpless waif and that I might have inherited some of her mechanical know-how.
Her being proud of me continues to be an important factor in how I live my life, but I never could have imagined how that would manifest itself differently this year when compared to the past. My mom loved her kids, more than anything else in the world. She didn't just live for us; she also lived through us. I never realized how much pressure that really was. Looking back on this year, I know I've done things I never would have done while she was alive. I didn't just want her to be proud, I wanted to be perfect for her. My life had to be good enough for the both of us. Now I feel like as long as I'm happy with where I end up, she'd be proud too.
It's really surprising how many things this applies to. I decided not to go to grad school this year, and stay in Columbia instead. My mom wanted me to be happy, but she also felt that as long as I stayed here, I never would be. That it would be less than, somehow. I find that I decided to stay and that I'm perfectly happy with that decision.
I've taken some risks and occasionally behaved badly in my personal life this year, and I NEVER would have done that when she was around. I think the need to be perfect for her kept me from doing things that most normal people wouldn't think twice about and that have turned out to be not such a big deal to me either. This is not to say that I've become a morally bankrupt monster in her absence, but giving myself permission to screw up has been pretty liberating.
The biggest realization this year has been that my relationship with my mom and dad has been mirrored in every romantic relationship I've ever had. That reads as pretty creepy, but really it's just that I'm very good at being a chameleon. I was what my parents wanted me to be for so long that I never bothered to figure out who I wanted to be. Feeling that go away also made me realize that I've done the same thing in romantic relationships. You're into camping? Sure, count me in! You like indie music? Me too! I've gained a lot of knowledge about a variety of hobbies from the men in my life, and I wouldn't trade any of it, but I'm 28 and I'm just now bothering to figure out which of these things I actually have an interest in without another person around. It's terrifying and liberating all at the same time.
I think my mom would be proud of me working on this, proud that I'm paying more attention to myself. I think it would have made her sad to think that her relationship with me limited me in some way. I don't think that, but she would have. Her influence on my life used to be so big that when she died, I felt adrift for a while. Now I think of it as her voice whispering in my ear, giving me advice, patting me on the back, and reading me the riot act when necessary.
I hope that won't ever go away. I miss her every day, and today was no different. Also, people are right. It never gets easier, just different.
It seems selfish, but today is a pretty big taking stock day for me. Maybe I should be thinking of her more, but I mean, she's gone, so what's she got going on? Alternatively, my whole life changed when she died. The consequences of those changes have been an odd combination of predictable and completely unexpected.
My sister and I are closer than ever, which has been a welcome change from our previously surly and reluctant exchanges. Turns out that when your mom dies and your dad has a stroke, you're pretty happy to have a sister to share the burden. Plus, we've both grown up some and I'd like to think we're not such jerks anymore.
The dad situation has further complicated things, and I think the "wow, I'm an adult" moments have arrived at a rapid pace because of it, but they were already bowling me over before his stroke. My mom was the parent I primarily turned to when I had no idea what to do next, and even though my dad was awesome after her death, it felt different somehow. I've gained a lot of confidence this year from figuring out things on my own. This is especially true when it's something I know I would have asked her about and that fell within her wide skill range, i.e. installing my ceiling fan. She would have been delighted to know that I'm not a helpless waif and that I might have inherited some of her mechanical know-how.
Her being proud of me continues to be an important factor in how I live my life, but I never could have imagined how that would manifest itself differently this year when compared to the past. My mom loved her kids, more than anything else in the world. She didn't just live for us; she also lived through us. I never realized how much pressure that really was. Looking back on this year, I know I've done things I never would have done while she was alive. I didn't just want her to be proud, I wanted to be perfect for her. My life had to be good enough for the both of us. Now I feel like as long as I'm happy with where I end up, she'd be proud too.
It's really surprising how many things this applies to. I decided not to go to grad school this year, and stay in Columbia instead. My mom wanted me to be happy, but she also felt that as long as I stayed here, I never would be. That it would be less than, somehow. I find that I decided to stay and that I'm perfectly happy with that decision.
I've taken some risks and occasionally behaved badly in my personal life this year, and I NEVER would have done that when she was around. I think the need to be perfect for her kept me from doing things that most normal people wouldn't think twice about and that have turned out to be not such a big deal to me either. This is not to say that I've become a morally bankrupt monster in her absence, but giving myself permission to screw up has been pretty liberating.
The biggest realization this year has been that my relationship with my mom and dad has been mirrored in every romantic relationship I've ever had. That reads as pretty creepy, but really it's just that I'm very good at being a chameleon. I was what my parents wanted me to be for so long that I never bothered to figure out who I wanted to be. Feeling that go away also made me realize that I've done the same thing in romantic relationships. You're into camping? Sure, count me in! You like indie music? Me too! I've gained a lot of knowledge about a variety of hobbies from the men in my life, and I wouldn't trade any of it, but I'm 28 and I'm just now bothering to figure out which of these things I actually have an interest in without another person around. It's terrifying and liberating all at the same time.
I think my mom would be proud of me working on this, proud that I'm paying more attention to myself. I think it would have made her sad to think that her relationship with me limited me in some way. I don't think that, but she would have. Her influence on my life used to be so big that when she died, I felt adrift for a while. Now I think of it as her voice whispering in my ear, giving me advice, patting me on the back, and reading me the riot act when necessary.
I hope that won't ever go away. I miss her every day, and today was no different. Also, people are right. It never gets easier, just different.
Comments
This is a big realization for you and it makes me very happy to hear it.