Lately my Trusted Companion and I have been ticking through a list of questions we found developed by psychologist Arthur Aron, et al, from a study created to explore whether or not intimacy can be accelerated. Now, the Trusted Companion and I have known one another for five years, already, so some of these questions don’t quite apply, but it has been fun conversing over cocktails — and a whole lot more interesting than watching a movie or TV show.  I enjoyed sharing my answers and hearing his answers.  Until we got to Question 24:  How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?

TC’s (Trusted Companion’s) immediate response was, “Just tell me about the relationship you did have with your mom, what you remember.”

I’m 43 years old. It’s been thirty years since my mom died.  THIRTY.  She has been gone from my life far, far longer than she was around.  She didn’t see me graduate from high school, graduate from college, get married, have babies.  She wasn’t around for comfort when my big sister Donna died.  She couldn’t support me when my brother Mike died.  She wasn’t available as I went through my divorce and attempted to rebuild my life.  She’s missed the bulk of my growing up.  Perhaps, more accurately, I’ve missed HER.

I don’t think about it much, you know … that loss.  I guess I tend to view that part of my life as wrapped up/over and done.  I’ve mourned her.  I’ve talked in therapy about her.  I’ve moved on.  But then some asshole psychologist that I’ve never even met has to ask me to define my relationship with her.

Do you want to know what I remember about my mom?  It isn’t much.

• When I used to ask when dinner was going to be ready, she’d respond, “Like the monkey said when he got his tail caught in the door, ‘It won’t be long, now!'”  Good golly, I LOVED that answer.  If she ever had the audacity to answer with “Soon” or “About 15 minutes”, I would stare blankly at her until she answered appropriately.
• She was a HELL of a domestic engineer.  That woman could sew, cook, bake, grow, can, pickle, jar, freeze.  She made MAGNIFICENT birthday cakes (thanks to her Wilton cake decorating classes).  She birthed seven babies and managed not to lose a single one of us.  Yes.  overachiever.
• She had a fiercely goofy streak in her.  Every year when we went to cut down our Christmas tree, she would make us join hands around the chosen conifer and sing “Oh, Christmas Tree”.  We complained loudly and loved every second of it.
• She was holy.  But she was not “in your face” holy.  That woman did not judge far, far, far before it was trendy to be non judgmental.  She used to say frequently, “Everyone has good in them.  In some people, you just need to look a little harder.”
• She was, contrary to what my dad will tell you, NOT perfect.  It’s important for me to remember that fact because otherwise she feels too out of reach, too far away.  She inherited a sharp tongue from her mother and could reduce me to tears in one sentence.  She did not use that power often, but once in a while it would sneak out.
• She knew what was important.  The house was never perfect (seven kids!), but we ate dinner together every night and she went to all baseball, softball, and football games of EVERYONE.  I blame her for my crappy housekeeping skills. 😉

It’s not much, that list.  I guess the relationship I have with my mother is complicated.  I knew her only as a child and now, as an adult, I find myself searching for ways to connect with the adult woman that she was.  Her death left me reeling for YEARS afterwards.  I had multiple hospital admissions for suicide attempts and crippling depression.  I would say that the years from 16 (she died when I was 13 but I managed to stuff all the emotions for a good three years) to 25 were lost to the demon of depression.  I just spiraled down, down, down.  And I know cancer wasn’t her fault, but I was pissed that she left me.  The anger has subsided, but the complex feelings remain.

Now, these days, I look at my two daughters and don’t know if I’m doing the right things.  I never had a mom at their ages!  I don’t know how to parent them!  I don’t know the “right” things to say and the “right” rules to enforce!  I never had those things from a mom.  I’m making it up as I go along.  I’m grateful I know good therapists (personally as well as professionally).  I ask them lots of questions.

I’ve had a bit of a melancholy pall over me all day, and I think this is why.  The question churned up the grief from 30 years ago.  It’s like the tide, you know, it ebbs and flows.  Mostly, I’m good.  Mostly, I’m healed.  Mostly, I’m whole.  Days like today remind me of the “Mostly”.  Because sometimes, I’m not.

And you know what?  That’s okay.  Because Mostly, I don’t have days like today.