Today would have been my mom's 56th birthday. She passed away 13 years ago from lung cancer.
The first week in May was always festive: Kentucky Derby, Cinco de Mayo, and mom's birthday. Mothers' Day was/is soon to follow. The first few weeks of May are now very hard for me.
Anyone who knows me personally knows my mother and I fought like cats and dogs and never really understood one another. It wasn't until I was about 22 years old we started acting like adults (really, BOTH of us) and calling each other on the phone and making plans for her to come to the city to come see a ballet or go to the orchestra. We even survived a Christmas Shopping excursion.
When she became sick I was her caretaker as my brother, being the stereotypical Italian Momma's son, and my stepfather being an idiot. I took all my vacation and personal days and a leave of absence to see her through her illness. It was tough. It was a bonding experience. She and I were never closer when she was sick with chemo and I would climb into bed with her, holding hands, fingers laced together, napping. I realized how similar our hands looked. Same features.
I was angry with myself for a long time that we didn't truly get to know each other until she had 3 months to live. I suppose many mother-daughter relationships are tumultuous but I still beat myself up for it for years after her death.
I now have 4 daughters myself and I wonder every time I yell or hear my mother's words and tone emit from my mouth if their teen years are going to be like mine were. Will we stop being friends at 13 and start back up again at 20? Scary thoughts since H is 10; she is changing everyday with the eye rolls and the sighs becoming more and more frequent.
Happy Birthday, Mom.
No comments:
Post a Comment