by Arlene Mae

Created on: September 17, 2010

Moms, I never realized until this year that some people did not have a kind, gentle and loving relationship with their mother.  The first time a coworker told me her Mom was hateful and it was her father she would go to for comfort blew my mind.   How did I get to be in my forties and not even consider what I thought was normal did not apply to everyone, not even my sister?  

My sister shared with me one day not so long ago, she had never felt our Mothers love.  I asked her, “Not even when you got older?”  To which she replied, “No, I never felt it.”   My heart fell; I felt a huge loss for her to not know her Mothers love.   I guess maybe it had something to do with the fact I was the baby of the family, that I took that special place in my mothers heart.  Or maybe it was because my sister had her own children to nurture.  I have no children so I was able to have more time with my parents as I moved into the time of life when you start to appreciate your parents. 

My mother was my friend towards the end of our lives together.  In the beginning she was my teacher, my mentor, my healer, my enemy, yes sad, but true, sometimes I felt that way.  It wasn’t until I reached my 30’s when I realized my parents are not getting any younger and I needed to give back to them, some of what she provided to me.

After the death of my father, I became even closer.  I gave her a daily phone call to touch base.  She lived 100 miles away and she lived in fear that no one would know whether she was dead or alive.  I was her last link, the only one that knew how she was really feeling that day, the only one that knew what she was thinking.   We get to a point in life and realize, we really aren’t that close with people.   There is one, 2 people if we’re lucky that really know you.  

My Mother was a very strong individual.   I never heard her cuss except once and it was after Dad died, so I let it slip by unnoticed.  My mother packed up her life with my Dad and siblings; we hauled memories to the trash and dispersed other memories to siblings in order to move Mom into an apartment closer to me and my sister.  She had quit driving.  Getting groceries and going to doctor appointments became a challenge.

As my Mothers time drew near, no one suspected. We knew she had seen better days.  She never let on too much that anything was really wrong.   Even on her death bed, as the doctor gathered us kids around to say she has 2 weeks to live she squeezed my hand to comfort me.  My last act of kindness for my mother was to order the next shot of morphine before I left for the night.  I no sooner got home and in the bed and the phone rang, she was gone.

I had to go back to the hospital, my husband could not understand, why. She’s gone.  He drove me.  I reached her room and crawled up on the bed to hug her and squeeze her hand one last time.  I love you Mommy.

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