Today is Mother's Day. A day set aside to honor the person who, in theory, puts her children and their needs before herself, and her needs. I had a mom just like that.
We didn't have much money when I was small so mom used to make many of my clothes. I didn't think much of it when I was really small, but a few times as I was in grade school I was teased because I had clothes that didn't really look like other kids. The teasing didn't bother me too much, usually, because I loved the special clothes mom made for me and I felt really special wearing them. I remember mom taking me to the fabric store pouring through patterns sometimes for hours together. She would describe the changes she was going to make to the designs, then we'd go home and sift through fabrics together. She'd tell me how it would be when the project was finished. Mom communicated with me in a way I could understand best. I always knew by her descriptions and time spent showing me the fabric what something would look like, and I was always excited to watch the projects unfold. Mom had dozens of bolts of fabric and fabric remnants stashed in her sewing room, jars of buttons everywhere, an actual dress form mannequin probably worth hundreds of dollars today (mysteriously vanished someway, somehow) and cabinets of full of patterns and dreams. Most of that fabric and those buttons came from thrift shops, yard sales and flea markets. Mom was a garage sale queen, and made sure I became one too.
Mom was exceptionally artistic and creative. She could sew, she could paint, she played guitar, she could draw. Mom could do anything, especially when it came to making something out of nothing. This I believe is where the seeds were sown in my own self as far as being able to see something very different when looking at any particular object.
One Halloween there was a local costume contest sponsored by a record store. Everything had to be home made. Mom was excited, she made our costumes and we entered the contest. We were immediately disqualified by the judges, they said no one could make costumes that good, they must have been purchased. Mom was furious, and as weird as this sounds its something I don't think she ever got over. She perceived it as an injustice (which it was). I think it was there and then when I began to understand what justice and injustice was, and that I first understood (even so young) that not everything in life is fair. Oddly enough, I remember the store playing "Me and My Arrow," on the sidewalk loudspeaker, so any time I hear that song, I think of my mom too.
My mom taught me to read, before "home schooling" was called "home schooling." Mom taught me old-fashioned manners, to say "please," when asking for something, "thank you" when given something, and to always ask to be excused when leaving the dinner table. Mom nurtured my own love of animals, and our home always had companion animals living with us. Although mom was not a vegetarian, I am pretty sure that had she lived longer than she had, she would have come to embrace a compassionate lifestyle if only she had the opportunity to know back then about the cruelty involved in so many industries.
Mom insisted I learn to play a musical instrument, scrimped and saved so I could have private lessons, and took great pride in my accomplishments. She went to mother/daughter breakfasts with me, helped me earn badges for girl scouts, taught me how to bake cookies, and how to make make our own Christmas ornaments from homemade clay. She made me take my vitamins before vitamins were trendy, and she always looked to Adelle Davis's "Let's Get Well" book for remedies before contemplating anything mainstream medical. She also taught me the thinner you slice an eggplant, the better it will be when fried (ah... the days when frying food was ok).
Mom made suet balls for the birdies in winter, put cat beds on the porches outside for the stray kitties, and was responsible for adopting probably the best cat I've ever known who we named Guido.
Mom loved fashion, and the fact that money was tight was no reason not to have a fashion forward, polished & sophisticated appearance. I remember mom looking at herself in the mirror as she set her hair in what looked like ancient hot rollers. I now have that same mirror and I think about her hot rollers almost every time I look at my own reflection. Mom was absolutely beautiful. Tall, thin, with incredibly perfect skin. Mom had a lot of class.
Mom was taken from this earthly plane relatively young. At the time of her death, she and I were finally just beginning to reconnect after I had gone through a particularly rebellious phase. We were once again shopping together, having lunches out together, and I was finally beginning to again appreciate the wonderful, amazing woman that she was. Then suddenly, one day she was gone. Just like that.
Nothing in my life could have prepared me for the loss of mom, especially at that stage and age. Nothing. After more than 25 years, I still sometimes think I'll be able to talk to her on the phone, or just see her walking by. Of course that doesn't happen. The older I get, the more I come to realize how much I am like my mom. I think that was part of the reason I rebelled so much at one point, I didn't want to be like her, but had no idea being like her was really not a bad thing. I guess that's natural for any youth, to a certain extent.
Now, I think of mom every day and wish she could see the work that we are doing here, meet her only grandchild (my nephew), sit on a beach surrounded by tiny deer and cats, paint the sky, or just "be."
Loss is a funny thing. When it happens, there's the shock and trauma of it, and finally you put some pieces of your life back together. You move on, whatever that means. But what I have found is that longer someone is gone from my life, the more I miss them and the harder the loss actually is. Mother's Day is like that for me.
I wish my mom was here. I would buy her a tree and plant it for her. I would cook her an amazing vegan dinner (with cake too!) I would want her to sit on my beach and play with the acrylics for hours this afternoon, painting and playing. I would make her a martini and we would be together doing these things, not talking much. There wouldn't be too much to say, she'd know what I was thinking anyway, I'm sure of it. Maybe she'd help me blend the paints better to get a more perfect shade of aquamarine. Beyond that, no, not much to say. Darkness would begin to fall, the stars would come out, and I would have one more chance to tell her "Thank you Mom, you're the best."
Happy Mother's Day Mom. You were the best.
We didn't have much money when I was small so mom used to make many of my clothes. I didn't think much of it when I was really small, but a few times as I was in grade school I was teased because I had clothes that didn't really look like other kids. The teasing didn't bother me too much, usually, because I loved the special clothes mom made for me and I felt really special wearing them. I remember mom taking me to the fabric store pouring through patterns sometimes for hours together. She would describe the changes she was going to make to the designs, then we'd go home and sift through fabrics together. She'd tell me how it would be when the project was finished. Mom communicated with me in a way I could understand best. I always knew by her descriptions and time spent showing me the fabric what something would look like, and I was always excited to watch the projects unfold. Mom had dozens of bolts of fabric and fabric remnants stashed in her sewing room, jars of buttons everywhere, an actual dress form mannequin probably worth hundreds of dollars today (mysteriously vanished someway, somehow) and cabinets of full of patterns and dreams. Most of that fabric and those buttons came from thrift shops, yard sales and flea markets. Mom was a garage sale queen, and made sure I became one too.
Mom was exceptionally artistic and creative. She could sew, she could paint, she played guitar, she could draw. Mom could do anything, especially when it came to making something out of nothing. This I believe is where the seeds were sown in my own self as far as being able to see something very different when looking at any particular object.
One Halloween there was a local costume contest sponsored by a record store. Everything had to be home made. Mom was excited, she made our costumes and we entered the contest. We were immediately disqualified by the judges, they said no one could make costumes that good, they must have been purchased. Mom was furious, and as weird as this sounds its something I don't think she ever got over. She perceived it as an injustice (which it was). I think it was there and then when I began to understand what justice and injustice was, and that I first understood (even so young) that not everything in life is fair. Oddly enough, I remember the store playing "Me and My Arrow," on the sidewalk loudspeaker, so any time I hear that song, I think of my mom too.
My mom taught me to read, before "home schooling" was called "home schooling." Mom taught me old-fashioned manners, to say "please," when asking for something, "thank you" when given something, and to always ask to be excused when leaving the dinner table. Mom nurtured my own love of animals, and our home always had companion animals living with us. Although mom was not a vegetarian, I am pretty sure that had she lived longer than she had, she would have come to embrace a compassionate lifestyle if only she had the opportunity to know back then about the cruelty involved in so many industries.
Mom insisted I learn to play a musical instrument, scrimped and saved so I could have private lessons, and took great pride in my accomplishments. She went to mother/daughter breakfasts with me, helped me earn badges for girl scouts, taught me how to bake cookies, and how to make make our own Christmas ornaments from homemade clay. She made me take my vitamins before vitamins were trendy, and she always looked to Adelle Davis's "Let's Get Well" book for remedies before contemplating anything mainstream medical. She also taught me the thinner you slice an eggplant, the better it will be when fried (ah... the days when frying food was ok).
Mom made suet balls for the birdies in winter, put cat beds on the porches outside for the stray kitties, and was responsible for adopting probably the best cat I've ever known who we named Guido.
Mom loved fashion, and the fact that money was tight was no reason not to have a fashion forward, polished & sophisticated appearance. I remember mom looking at herself in the mirror as she set her hair in what looked like ancient hot rollers. I now have that same mirror and I think about her hot rollers almost every time I look at my own reflection. Mom was absolutely beautiful. Tall, thin, with incredibly perfect skin. Mom had a lot of class.
Mom was taken from this earthly plane relatively young. At the time of her death, she and I were finally just beginning to reconnect after I had gone through a particularly rebellious phase. We were once again shopping together, having lunches out together, and I was finally beginning to again appreciate the wonderful, amazing woman that she was. Then suddenly, one day she was gone. Just like that.
Nothing in my life could have prepared me for the loss of mom, especially at that stage and age. Nothing. After more than 25 years, I still sometimes think I'll be able to talk to her on the phone, or just see her walking by. Of course that doesn't happen. The older I get, the more I come to realize how much I am like my mom. I think that was part of the reason I rebelled so much at one point, I didn't want to be like her, but had no idea being like her was really not a bad thing. I guess that's natural for any youth, to a certain extent.
Now, I think of mom every day and wish she could see the work that we are doing here, meet her only grandchild (my nephew), sit on a beach surrounded by tiny deer and cats, paint the sky, or just "be."
Loss is a funny thing. When it happens, there's the shock and trauma of it, and finally you put some pieces of your life back together. You move on, whatever that means. But what I have found is that longer someone is gone from my life, the more I miss them and the harder the loss actually is. Mother's Day is like that for me.
I wish my mom was here. I would buy her a tree and plant it for her. I would cook her an amazing vegan dinner (with cake too!) I would want her to sit on my beach and play with the acrylics for hours this afternoon, painting and playing. I would make her a martini and we would be together doing these things, not talking much. There wouldn't be too much to say, she'd know what I was thinking anyway, I'm sure of it. Maybe she'd help me blend the paints better to get a more perfect shade of aquamarine. Beyond that, no, not much to say. Darkness would begin to fall, the stars would come out, and I would have one more chance to tell her "Thank you Mom, you're the best."
Happy Mother's Day Mom. You were the best.
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