10 Amazing Things my Mom did for me

She made me pretty tough, mentally. I’ve a long way to go to be even nearly as tough as she was, but I’d like to think she’d be proud to know that a part of her is alive & well in me.

When I was 8, my mom caught me singing with a hairbrush in front of the mirror & teased me for wanting to be a star. When I was 12, I scored a solo in the school pageant. She told me I did well except for “that one big clunker note.” Those two things made me self-conscious about my singing, but I LOVED to sing, so I was determined to do it, in spite of some rather powerful self-doubt.

Finally, when I was 35, I recorded a song that I wrote for my mom’s birthday. “You should try to write songs in Nashville,” she said. “You’re a wonderful writer and your voice is lovely.” I was floored.

Now that I’m finally trying to write songs for real, I “talk” to mom about it, frequently. I toss out little jokes like, “Ok, mom. This is partly YOUR money here, so you’re gonna have to make it work!” (Mom always had a Midas touch in business.)

Today, hubby & I were talking to some friends. I confessed that a part of me keeps thinking that this should be much, much harder, that we know people who have been doing this for years & are still playing the open mics. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but why do WE have a booker?

Hubby said, “Right now your mom is looking down at you, tapping her foot & saying, ‘You asked for my help. Are you gonna do this, or what?’”

Maybe you have to know us to appreciate the commentary, but it sounded about right to me…
:)

And P.S. We still have a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG way to go before we make any serious money at this, but I do feel grateful to have gotten anywhere at all, this early in the process…

about Uncle Bethel these days, but the money we invested in the studio came, in part, from the money that mom left me. She’d approve; she always told me I should try writing songs. Anyway, these past few days, I’ve been talking to her again, “This s YOUR money, mom, so help us make it work!”

Sounds crazy, I know, but she was extremely frugal, so she’d want us to be successful. This is her money, after all.
:)

Yeppers, crazy.

But I like feeling that she’s in my corner, so maybe it’s ok to be a little crazy…

Her house is closing this Friday so last night I went over to say goodbye… As I looked around, I reflected on how clean the house was, not just of the dust & clutter, but of all the painful memories of how sick she’d gotten… For the first time in years, I was able to remember when she first bought the house, how happy she was, and how much she loved it…

I thought, “Wouldn’t it be nice if our RELATIONSHIP was as clean as the house?” and that started a stream of apologies to her for not treating her better, followed by an admission that even when I was justified in being upset with her, I now wish I’d been kinder about it…

I apologized for not spending more time with her, for putting other things before her more often than I wish I had, in hindsight… And then I told her how much I loved her and asked her to please forgive me….

Instantly I felt a slight lifting of the spirit & I knew I was forgiven – by everyone except myself… “I know,” I cried to her, “I’ll work on the self-forgiveness…”

She said she was always proud of me… Even when I felt she was being critical, she was only trying to help… She didn’t mean for any of it to hurt… She loved me… The tears streamed down… It was just what I needed to hear… Again, I told her I was so sorry…

Then she said if I wanted to make it right, I should take care of my own daughter, always put her first, and that I should also spend lot of time with my baby sister, because she loves and depends on me… I promised I would, and I meant it…

After a good cry, I sat calmly, not quite ready to leave… I just wanted to be close to her for a bit longer….

When I finally did stand to go, I turned around and looked at the door of her bedroom… I felt her strong presence in the doorway… Out of nowhere I told her, “I forgive you too, mom… and I’ll always love you.” In that moment, I finally felt forgiven myself…

I know all of this sounds crazy, know that in “reality” the entire conversation was inside my head – me talking to me – but it FELT like her, and it was such a loving, soothing presence that I choose to believe it was her, regardless of the so-called “truth…”

hasn’t come yet… or I’m not ready to write it down yet because that would mean I’ve completed this goal and I’m not ready for that yet…

Tonight an email exchange with a family friend put me in touch with how much I miss my mom… I’ve been so busy with taking care of sis, settling the estate business, getting the houses ready to sell, working, and so on that I haven’t really had the chance to feel how much I love and miss her…

When she was alive, I thought of her as tough as nails… I don’t think I ever believed she would actually die… Now that I’ve had a year without her, all I can think of is how fragile she had become in those few short weeks before she died… I think that she must have felt pretty alone, knowing she was going to die & not wanting to tell any of us… I wish she could’ve let us help her through, but mostly I feel how much I still love her… The world seems a bit emptier without her in it…

Mom was a two-time widow with three kids, and although she had a lot of friends who helped her out when she really needed it, I know it was hard for her… I think she worried that when I grew up I’d chase the same dream she did – getting married & raising a family… It wasn’t the worst fate I could imagine, but I guess when you lose a couple of husbands, you learn how important it is to stand on your own… She always told me, “Never rely on a man to take care of you… You can love people, but always make your own money & be your own person…” That’s what she wanted for me, to be financially secure on my own… And I did that, which I think made her proud…

As a typical post-Depression Boomer, she did a lot with very little… At 36, she earned her master’s and finally started making decent money… After a string of smart investments and years of scrimping to continually build them, she retired comfortably…

I was never poor, or if I was, never knew it… I always thought we were rich…

When I first started out on my own, I spent everything I made… I borrowed money to buy my first (brand new) car at age 17, and was religious about making the payments… I established good credit and so borrowed more to buy more things because I could, and because I kidded myself that I “deserved” them…

After a few years I had gotten myself into trouble… I could make the payments, but barely… I turned to mom to bail me out, which she did, but her obvious disappointment bothered me – a lot! I paid her back in installments, that is until she told me to stop and presented me an unexpected check… She’d taken the payments I made & socked them away in an account for me…

There was a catch… I had to promise I wouldn’t go back to using credit, and I’d start saving the same amount I’d been sending her every payday…

Because of her, I was able to buy a home & fill it with nice things, take nice vacations, have a beautiful wedding, send my daughter to a good school, and help a lot of people who aren’t as lucky…

When I was young, she and I used to argue a lot about money… I always looked down on her for making it so important and she was always frustrated with me because I didn’t make it important enough…

I can’t say she’d be proud of me now for the way I handle money… I know she’d still say I’m too frivolous for my own good, that I spend too much on handbags & haircuts, but I can still be proud of myself because even without her around to bail me out, I’m able to take good care of myself and my family…

even though I think I’m basically an introvert…

Bright, pretty, & vivaceous, mom was always surrounded by people… When I was young, she dragged us to community dances every Saturday… She was a sought-after dance partner, partly because she was good but mostly because she was fun to be around…

Her parties were events and she LOVED them! I, on the other hand, didn’t really enjoy the constant stream of people… I had a dry sense of humor that very few people in the rural south seemed to get… I had lots of friends, but they were made over the course of years…

At her insistence I learned to love parties, to mingle in crowds, and dance without reserve… Thanks to her, I grew past my natural introversion and learned how to make small-talk, find things in common with lots of different people, and get along in the great big world out there instead of holing up in my own…

I still need my space, my alone time, but if she hadn’t insisted that I step outside that, I might be pretty lonely…

My family settled on a farm back in the 1700’s and has lived there ever since… Some of us moved away of course, but someone from our family has always stayed there to tend the farm we all consider home…

I learned to ride horses there, learned to gather honey and eggs, built many a snowman on its rolling acres, and wiled away many a sweltering summer afternoon in the swimming holes that are tucked away in its hollows… Several times a year we would make the trek to the family cemetery, usually on Sunday afternoons, to groom the graves and make sure there were always pretty flowers around…

Although mom’s life took her away, as far as Asia, she always
sent flowers on decoration day, and when she did come home, always went to the cemetery to pay her respects to loved ones that had passed…

She loved her childhood home, and when she died, asked to be buried next to her own mother, on a hillside overlooking the lush river valley she had roamed as a child…

She’s been gone almost a year now and with her birthday approaching, it’s time to buy a monument for her grave… When I die, I don’t want to take up any real estate, and monuments aren’t important to me at all… They were to mom, though, so I want her to have a nice one… With decoration day approaching she can’t have a naked grave… She just can’t…

I always thought “decoration day” and tending graves was a silly tradition, a waste of time and effort, but knowing how important that tradition was to her, and loving her as I do, it’s suddenly not so silly after all…

When I was six, I spent my whole allowance on a birthday gift for my grandmother… Mom was so touched she gave me another allowance that week… Being a kid, I had to wonder what would happen if I spent that selflessly too… Nothing.

She taught me to be generous for the sake of being generous, and not because I’m hoping for a reward…