Love comes in different forms, today I am reminded of Mother’s love…
My earliest memories of my own mother are mixed some sweet and others bittersweet. Janet was her name and in my mind a beauty. I recall one day she and my father came to school. It was during Library class time, they entered the room from a door at the top of the room and long stairs to the main floor. She was lovely, dressed in a white coat with her very dark hair. The children who noticed them gasp and I was overcome with adoration.
Earlier memories of her were why I am a nurse today. She apparently had postpartum depression after the birth of my brother. I remember her as very sad and often crying and even withdrawing to the bedroom. In one particular case, I recall my father attempting to get her up to eat a meal, the more he tried the more she resisted and cried. I took charge and kicked him in the shins at age 3 years, and I told him, “Stop making mommy cry!”
As an older child, I remember mom and dad frequently arguing and our Sunday afternoon drive cut short when she demanded. Looking backward, it seems she became very resistant to giving in and became quite bossy in their exchanges. She and I bonded, and I always thought of “US” as close friends beyond blood relations. It wasn’t until shortly before her passing that I was able to process I was a second to my brother. He and she would have quiet phone conversations and often criticize my actions. He would promise to make a visit from California and then change his plans, she would visibly and negatively react. Then like the ‘Mounties come to her Rescue!’ The nurturing well-conditioned, well-meaning healer of all ills was “there to save the day!”
When I look back and recall more memories, I remember Mom working at the local hospital on the Polio Ward with children. It was at the height of the epidemic/pandemic and people who were becoming ill was the dinner topic. In one case, a four-year-old child in our neighborhood died from it. My own reaction was to become hypervigilant of all aches and pains.
Aside from my biological mother, my needs were also met by way of two aunts and two grandmothers. I am guessing they were aware of the limited abilities of my mother and stepped it various ways. I was shared around and would spend short periods of time with one or another. In the summer I could spend a week in Montrose NY with my aunt Ann and maternal grandmother Olive. This side of the family were Roman Catholic complete with rosary beads and all. One Easter I went to a RC service with my Nanny, I recall this painfully as my brand-new white patent leather shoes rubbed a blister on my heels.
I sit here the mother of four and of many grandchildren and great grandchildren, remembering past acts of love and kindness, alone in my room. One actually called me that would be my daughter of course. No cards or flowers, no endearing words or wishes for love and happiness, but thankfully I have unconditional love from my two faithful pups. I could be worse off if they were not here with me.
jjldee64 