Grief came calling out of the blue when I was cleaning my house, preparing to welcome dinner guests. Thoughts of my mom came to me and my heart nearly burst with love and appreciation for her. I wanted her back in my kitchen, sitting with me again, so I could tell her how much it all meant to me; how much she meant to me even when I didn't know it, rebelled against it, was too ego-centric or stubborn or just plain ignorant to tell her until she was well into her elder years and I was starting to have a glimmer of all she had accomplished as a wife, mother, and woman -- without complaint and with an admirable degree of good cheer.
I think of her most vividly at Christmas. I know now the effort, work and worry that goes into "creating the magic". She seemed to do it effortlessly, but nothing that memorable happens without effort. My dad was a good father, but not a very helpful husband when it came to "women's work". Jobs were definitely gender-specific and I don't believe I ever saw him get very close to the kitchen. Or the vacuum cleaner. Or the gift-wrap. But it was all there, the Christmas magic, every year -- mostly a solo effort on her part.
Maybe some of my struggles with the season are about missing my mom. My parents' home was always the family gathering place. The tradition of hosting the holiday get-togethers was never passed down to my brothers or me. We all went to Mom and Dad's, even when grandkids came along, even when I moved 2000 miles away and flew to Illinois for the holidays. It wasn't until my dad died and my mom moved to the Northwest to live near me that I hosted the holidays. It was a small gathering of just the four of us and mom. The rest of the family was far-flung by that time. Mom always brought coffee cake and fruit salad for early morning gift opening and always a dish to contribute the Christmas dinner too. She carried bags of gifts wrapped and ready and was dressed in holiday finery with her fancy jewelry sparkling in the firelight.
Later, when her dementia set in, she seemed more confused than festive. At her last Christmas with us she has a haunted look in her eyes, even as she is half-smiling in the photos and trying to remain present with the event. I see my own haunted look of desperation -- the too-wide smile, the kneeling-at-her-side, arm-around-her-shoulders attentiveness, the attempt to cheer her going so wide of the mark that now I find the red boa and fuzzy Santa hat I adorned her in to be less fun than humiliating.
Christmas is a time of remembering and my memories of Mom are vivid and joyous; vivid and sad.
So I sat right down and cried the other day, tears streaming down my cheeks, dust cloth in hand, and murmured, "mama". But she would not have wanted me to feel so bereft. I can hear her, as I did so many times, say, "Oh, honey, don't cry. I just want you to be happy."
Maybe me making peace with Christmas would be a way to honor her. Maybe finding happiness in this supposed "Season of Joy" could be a healing practice. And maybe a 64-year-old woman can just miss her mom...and that can be OK too.
At least, that's the view from here…. ©
It better be okay for a 64 year old woman to miss her mom because this 70-something woman still misses her mom, especially around Christmas. Life as I'd known it changed forever after she died as I'm sure it did with you. I've never been a mother but I truly believe in the power of mothers to know what isn't spoken out loud, so I can say without reservation that your mom knew how appreciative you were/still are of everything she taught you and did for you.
ReplyDeleteAs we age, I also think in order to make peace with all the changes that have happened to our holidays we have to lower our expectations for perfection. They don't call our reminisces sentimental and idealized for nothing i.e. looking back it's easy to filter out the less than perfect and only remember the best. Such is the cycle of life.
Hugs coming your way and burn some cookies just to practice not reaching for holiday perfection. We only reach that in our dreams and memories.
Thanks, Jean. I almost didn't publish this one….how many depressing, complaining, "I hate Christmas" posts can one read and not delete my blog. But…well…this is me right now. I'll get better soon and be back to my dazzling self. LOL
DeleteBaking a batch of cookies tomorrow; will burn whether I intend to or not. It's my signature style.
I think the same about my blog from time to time when I get in a Debbie Downer grove that will probably lose some readers. But the bottom line is I have to be true to myself and what is going on inside my head. If the outside world doesn't like it they can do their own blog. LOL
DeleteThis is what a blog is for, in my opinion!! There is not one thing wrong with posting your feelings--my blog readers know more about me and my feelings than any family member or friend knows. There also in not one thing wrong with missing your Mama--especially at Christmas time. That was my Mother's time of year too--she made it always so magical. She died at age 53 and our family has never been the same since.
ReplyDeleteNot one thing wrong with a 64 year old woman crying for missing her Mama and not one thing wrong with a 75 year old woman missing hers and crying like a baby.
Thank you for this post!
Thanks Judy. I'm glad for your support and to know I'm not alone in this. I always hope my sharing personal stories in my blog will allow others to relate, maybe give them a new perspective, or find a bit if humor in this crazy life. I guess telling that truth is not always "happy", but it's always sincere.
DeleteMy children and nieces and nephews probably miss the wonder of my mother's Christmas more than I do. But I have tried to carry forth with some of her best customs: puzzles, games, anyone welcome. Now it seems far easier for my husband and I to travel to the feast than to provide it...a slow shift in traditions. We do have one family member who will always stay away and another who comes no matter the distance. My daughter-in-law has taken over the "site-of-the dinner" but we can walk there. I, however, have spent my life trying to make invisible the fact that I hate Christmas as much as I hate the Fourth of July. I can write that here because my children will not be reading this blog. (And I believe they would be surprised to hear my hostility) I like the lights and cards and the hugging of friends and family and much of the music and often the giving. In truth, I love the giving far more than I like that "getting". So there it is - honesty that makes my jaw ache.
ReplyDeleteI shed a few tears this year, thinking about the magic that my mom created and the decades it took me to appreciate that it wasn't effortless. Her lovely mantel with Santa, reindeer. .. the cookies, fudge, divinity, peanut brittle, popcorn balls, delicious applesauce fruitcake... the house decorated, every square inch, the beautifully wrapped presents, Christmas music on the stereo. In the early days my sisters and I got$20 for gift buying. Those frosty days, shopping the 8-10 downtown stores. .."going in" with one sister or another to get a better gift then calling mom into her bedroom to excited display the loot...I swear that was more fun than the actual unwrapping. ..
ReplyDeleteFROM AN EMAIL: Thank you again for capturing the ever-nebulous thoughts flitting around in my brain. My butterfly net just does not do the thoughts justice!
ReplyDeleteYes, tears did flow with your reminders - of my mama, of my position (or lack thereof) in my family at this point, etc.