WHO AM I?

I listened to a TED speaker recently, who said: “To find out who you are, ask yourself the question ‘Who am I NOT!’”

I asked myself ‘Who am I NOT?’, the first answer that sprang to mind was ‘I am not my mother’, but straight after that the realization hit – I am who I am because of so much of who my mother was.

My mom was by no means perfect. There have been a lot of upheaval, and even trauma, in our relationship.

We had our disagreements and some major fights, but I miss her.

I miss watching her bake and potter around the garden;

I never thought I could grow things as well as she could, and yet I love how green I have been able to make my house and garden.

I miss watching her build and fix stuff – and I surprise my husband, and myself sometimes, when I can make or fix things on my own.

I miss watching her be creative – and I love the creativity that I don’t always have time to dabble in.

I miss talking to her about my life, about where I am at, about my kids. I miss her off the wall, sometimes hippy, sometimes dicey, advice on everything.

I miss seeing her cuddle her grand-children, and hate that she never got to meet my youngest son, because she was the epitome of a loving grandmother.

I miss her hugs, she would hold on until you felt uncomfortable, then hold on some more, until you gave in and just hugged back some more.

I miss her kissing me softly on the cheek – it bugged me when I got older, yet she kept at it.

And now I understand – I do it with my kids – because I love them to bits, and I will keep on kissing them softly on their cheeks until my breath leaves me. I miss her loving and caring heart.

In school our home was where all the friends hung out because mom would accept them no matter what, and make them feel welcome and safe.

I miss how irreverent she could be and how inappropriate her sense of humor was.

I miss how she would never ask for a cup of tea, but throw hints of how thirsty she was, so you would make her another cup of tea – and she was a teapot, I’m sure she had at least 20 cups a day.

I miss the days I was sent home from school when I was ill, to find her cleaning house – smelling all pine scented. And she would let me lie on her and dad’s bed, gave me whatever medicine was required and then carried on cleaning.

I miss how she tried to draw me out of my introverted shell.

She wrote me a note once saying she understood it wasn’t easy to share my heart out loud, and that I could tell her anything I couldn’t say in person, by writing her a note.

I miss how she tried to get me to socialize more by sending me off to my end of high school after party with a bottle of wine. I miss everything about her, before she was no longer herself.

My mom lives 4 hours’ drive from my house, and I cannot see her, as she has a debilitating mental illness that makes her fear everyone, especially those who used to be closest to her.

Until her dying day/or a miracle occurs, she is trapped in a shell of irreversible paranoia and fear.

All I want to do is to sit down with her and tell her how thankful I am for all that she was to me and for all that she has taught me.

I want to tell her how much I love her and will always love her, and that I miss her.

I will never have any of that with my mom again.

I miss her.