Today is Mom’s birthday.
As I do every year, I think about what to write for her. Truth is, from her death in August of 2008 until now, I haven’t dealt with the whole loss-of-mom-thing.
Who does? Who wants to?
Grief changes over time as we learn to live new lives without that person experiencing our days with us. We don’t get over the deaths of people we love because in their absence, everything changes.
Mary, Mom, was such a pickle—especially for me, her contrarian daughter—to deal with. As adept as I can be at perceiving people, reading Mom was never easy. What went on in that brain so different from mine is still a cause for puzzled pondering.
I’m not romanticizing the sometimes adversarial relationship I shared with my mom, read, Family Obligations – the Emotions that Make Us Who We Are.
recognize that we were both culpable in the odd dynamics we called mother-daughter kinship. My thanksl that we had an unparalleled closeness in the days leading up to her death.
With our opposite personalities, we managed to connect on one wonderful level.
We were Bookworms
Tidying my office this morning makes me realize I must again collect books to donate to the library. This reminds me of the most positive gift from mom: she gave me an unbridled love of reading.
Her love of books was passed on to all four children. We each read different genres, at different speeds, with different goals. But we read. Dad, great fellow that he was, was not a big reader. He’d pick up the occasional book (usually non-fiction), magazines, the Pennsylvania Game News, and he’d read everything I ever wrote.
But Mom—she would buzz through books like a beaver ripping through a stand of trees.
Mom read everything from historical romances to Lee Child—sisters and brother like Jack Reacher, but I don’t. We shared John Sandford. Once she finally caved and read a Michael Connelly, she remained a Hieronymus Bosch fan for life.
Although she liked the occasional non-fiction tome, I never convinced her to read The Diary of Anne Frank. Despite my assurances that the book celebrates the determination of human spirit set against terrible circumstances, Mom wouldn’t read.
Mom Taught US Books are Precious Commodities
Growing up we didn’t have a lot of extra money. Dad worked hard, had a good job, working on cars in his spare time, earning extra. Our parents were frugal and focused in their spending—teaching us the skill of money management.
To Mom, books were a critical part of life—as essential as food and water. We always had books from the school library and we selected books from the Scholastic brochure. When the truck was due at our school, we were each allowed to pick one book. Oh the agony! One book! Oh the delight! A new book! Isn’t it wonderful that there are still Scholastic book clubs for parents to participate in with their kids?
I still have those cherished childhood books. There are times I wistfully browse the titles like, Caps for Sale, I Can’t Said the Ant, and Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang. There is one I read every so many years, Magic Elizabeth, by Norma Kassirer. It is such an imaginative book that it tickles my fancy.
When I discovered Peter Robinson’s Inspector Banks novels, I knew immediately that Mom would love him. I reached for the phone. Such disappointment that I couldn’t share his writing with my mother.
Mom opened up worlds to her children with her love of reading. For me, so contrastive from her, it was one topic we discussed over the years without argument, happily debating what would happen in the next book in a series.
That’s what I missed about my mom. I may not have been able to read her and discern what she was thinking, but we were able to share our love of the written word.
If only books picked up the scents of the reader … I would love to breathe the smells of Mom via the books she left.
**
For Mom’s birthday many years ago…
When my mother laughs,
her face folds itself into a smile;
teeth are revealed,
lips curve upward,
cheeks expand,
eyes crinkle at their edges.
The laugh emerges from deep inside her throat,
full of heartiness.
Sometimes, if the tale told is extreme,
tears flow down her face and
anyone in her company cannot help but find her contagious.
My mother’s laugh soothed many fears in my childhood
and reassures me that life is to be taken lightly in my adulthood.
**
Miss you, my little minx of a mother.
**
Read: How do we heal our hearts?
Read: Eulogy for my father
What a beautiful tribute to your mom, Rose Mary, as “contrarian” as you may have been. I understand what you mean about “still not dealing with the whole loss-of-mom-thing.” I lost my mom a long time ago. I don’t know if I have ever really “dealt with” her passing. I wonder what that even means. Thank you for sharing.
I’m sorry for your mom-loss, Ramona. There is a blog to be written between us about what does “dealing with” losing our moms actually mean? Thank you for commenting.
That’s wonderful that you and your mother could share a love of books. I’m rather opposite of my mother’s personality as well. I’m mostly just like my dad in the ways that count.
Maybe it’s being the second–or third–kid, Jeri. My older sister followed more along mom’s thoughts. But it’s weird how each of us had a big bunch of each parent quite dominate in us. There’s a whole blog in that!
What a beautiful relationship you had with your mother. No surprise that your mother enjoyed reading books – as the saying goes, the apple does not fall far from the tree!
I hope you are looking back fondly at the time you shared together, the good and the challenging. Ten years probably does not feel that long ago.
Beautiful at the end, Phoenicia, the rest of our lives there were moments of beauty and moments of angst. Two opposite personalities, that’s all it came down to. I will alway love that she taught us to love reading–what worlds she opened for us!
I didn’t realize your Mom was a reader when I was a kid but I sure realized it as an adult. That was quite a collection of books she had! My Mom also read and passed on her love of reading to me. My parents used to say I always had “my nose in a book”. I still do!
I had forgotten that well-used phrase, Nadine. Mom & dad both accused their kids of that over the years! I loved playing out of doors on summer break, but I also loved that I could read and read some more.
What am amazing legacy your mother left you and your siblings RoseMary. Thank you for sharing your thoughts on your mother with us, it’s a very moving post.
Thank you for reading, Monika. Moms are complicated beings!
How lovely RoseMary. I know I’ve said it before, but you are so blessed to have grown up in such a warm and loving family. Thank you for sharing a bit of that with us.
None of us knew this was unusual until long after we’d left home, Marquita. Then we started to realize that ours was not actually the norm.
What a great tribute to your mother. My mother loved books too. She even had a late career (started in her 50s) of managing book stores. She did it because she loved books so much. Losing a mom is a common experience but that doesn’t make it easy. I’m glad you can take the time to look back at the good memories and appreciate them.
That’s great that your mom started a new career because of loving her books! Bravo to her. No, nothing easy about losing a mom.
Thx so much for introducing us to your mother, Rose. It’s interesting what an influence she was on you and your siblings’ love of reading. Neither of my parents read much. Both seemed too busy with other things. I guess that partly explains why I don’t read much either.
Mom gave us reading and dad gave us a can-do attitude. Both lunatics gave us humor and taught us not to take ourselves very seriously. 🙂
How wonderful to meet your Mom through your blog. What a precious gift to share the love of books and to inspire reading. I so remember the scholastic books and trips to the library.
I should have gotten a job with scholastic out of college, Carol! Glad to reveal a bit of mom to you.
There are many ways in which we carry on thoughts of our parents who passed. I think it is a nice legacy to have your mother in mind when you pick up a book.
Reading is such a great joy to pass along, Ken. I love when I read a book and think, mom would have liked this one.
Oh Mom.
Oh yes, to oh mom. In so many ways, Seester.