A letter from the past

I came home for lunch and found a package from my sister in the mail. In it were letters and notes between my mother and me, church bulletins announcing the birth of the womanchild and a letter Mom had written her father years and years ago. Part of it read, "Cindy graduated Thursday night from high school. She looked so sweet and her face radiated with happiness. She is a very shy person but so intelligent. I pray that she will not be lonely during the summer. She still has not made up her mind where she wants to go to school. She will be working every day from 5 to 10 p.m. What hours but she wants to work."

I'm sitting here crying, both in a sad and a good way. My mother was not a woman given to praise. I don't ever think I heard her say that I was smart. I usually heard, "Get your nose out of that book." As for sweet or having a desire to work, well, that wasn't the usual commentary on either my character or my appearance. Part of the eternal growing up that all people have to do is coming to terms about one's parents, their strengths, their weaknesses and the nature of the relationship between you. From experience I can say that the more of this particular challenge you accomplish before your parents die, the easier it is afterwards. I'd learned to look beyond both my mother's lack and choice of words to find what she really meant, and sometimes more importantly, what she really didn't mean but popped out anyway. I still think I had a fairly accurate picture of the beautiful, complex woman who raised me.

This reminder of her softer side though still caught me up short. I loved reading those words and being reminded again of my mother's love. I'm very grateful that she was such a packrat now. Seeing her gracious Palmer method cursive on the simple, lined notepads she preferred to traditional stationery has brought back a ton of memories. I can see her sitting at the kitchen table in the nook of the bay window with a cup of coffee, a jug full of pens and her notepads, large for letters, small for daily reminders. It's hard to believe that she's been dead for four years. I really miss her today, and I'm missing my sister. We haven't talked in months, and that's all my fault really. Life has been both too busy and bland to discuss. I want to go hug the womanchild. I hope my love for her never comes as a surprise.

I loved my mother, and I do miss her, but I no longer mourn. Sometimes like today though, grief catches me, and it is both sharp and sweet.

mothers
daughters