White hot

There are many things I didn’t understand until I became a mom. One of them is the white hot intensity with which I love my children. To say I was blown away by this feeling, would be a gross understatement.

I never knew until that moment, how my own mother felt about me. While I missed her before, it wasn’t until then, that I really, truly understood what I was missing.

We’ll see where this takes us…

 

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Not enough

My mom died in August of 1973. By the end of that year, my dad was remarried. Let that sink in… just less than five months…

There was hardly time to mourn. How DOES a child do that anyway? Is it important to keep traditions…Or is it wise to change things up? Is it a good idea to share stories… Or should we avoid “living in the past”?

After my dad married, it quickly became evident that sharing stories was not a good idea. For what ever reason, the woman who married US could not handle hearing tales of our family’s life that included our mom. We were told that we were “living in the past”. In fact, any mention of life as it was before, resulted in a rather large tantrum…that could last for days.

It didn’t take long for us to learn. Oh, someone would slip up every once in a while. Of course, it was thought to have been done on purpose. At least on my end, it wasn’t. I gave up most of the memories I might have had of my mother for this woman. That’s a lot to ask, no? I learned too late, it wasn’t enough.

We’ll see where this takes us…

Deadly sin # 6

IMG_6701 - watermarkedI am at the age where many people are becoming the care takers of their parents. It cannot be an easy transition going from being cared for to being the one who is taking care. For either party. Even still, I am a bit envious. I ran out of parents many years ago.

You know, no one will ever love you the way your parents did. Ever. Sure, I have siblings that love me (and I, them), but it’s different. It wasn’t until I had my own children, that I started missing my mother (d.1973). I really don’t remember her, but I knew, the minute I fell in love with my first child, just how she felt about me. It was devastating.

I am envious, not because of the amazingly hard task many of you face, but for the many years you got to be someone’s child.

We’ll see where this takes us…