My Mom often walked on paths less warn than my own. Because of this, through much of my life and to this day I lack significant understanding of her. Not for her lack of trying. Bequeathed to me at her passing I have several of her attempts at novels and her 'life story'. As of this post I have not sampled her life story, but I have read various passages from her novels. At some point in my life I may draw from those wells, but at this point I am not quite ready. From our conversations those last few years I am still wary and not trusting enough.
But I am aware of many areas where my Mother lives on in me and my siblings. Her blood courses through me, her peculiar brand of nurturing is in my nature. I find particular phrases of hers in my vocabulary. I see moments where particular mannerisms of hers cross my brows or wrinkle my face.
This blog itself likely owes some allegiance to my Mother. She was a reader, I am a reader. She was a writer, I attempt to write too.
My chosen occupation has roots with my Mother too. Certainly not by her design, or mine. But her insistence in us kids attending a Catholic parochial school particularly weighs heavy in what I do for a living. The emphasis on math and logic I received in school has kept food on my family's tables for 35 years. The summers where she enforced me to do work-sheets when I would rather be swimming or playing ball did have an impact. She even encouraged me to take up typing as an elective in High School, a skill that serves me as a developer and serves me here on this keyboard.
Mom was an artist. Not a classical artist in any way. She reminds me more of folksy artists like Maud Lewis or Grandma Moses than a more classical artist. She mastered bead work, crotchet, knitting, sewing. She dabbled in wood-burning, painting, writing, dancing, and performance art. She created scripts, and short plays. She tried her hand at the piano and organ. She had a beautiful soprano singing voice.
How that passed to me was mostly in the writing arts. Though I have made videos, podcasts, and more. I fancied myself a poet at one time, and still dabble at that. I received a fraction of her creative skills, and am grateful for that. I get great joy from being able to create something different.
I have strong compassion for equality and fairness. My Mom installed those things in my from a young age. Sadly, late in life she may have lost some of that from her conversation and makeup, but not until it was passed on to me. I hope that as time carries on for me that I don't lose sight of that, it is important to me and worthy of retaining. I fear that age may wither passion from the vine....perhaps it did for her.
In some ways, Mom's failings have shaped me too. For better and for worse. I have strong feelings about 'no kid should ever feel neglected by their parent'. No one should feel unwanted. That every child deserves an attentive parent or Grandparent. This is not to judge my Mother on her motherhood, rather to judge me on allowing those feelings to foster in my youth. It pains me now to think of another youth to have to sample from that bitter well.
To me, as a youth...Mom seemed distant and aloof. Not fully engaged. I share this trait too, which serves me no great service. I apologize to those who may have experienced this from me. My wife particularly. That this one trait from my Mother has continued on in me is no great blessing. Yet, folks....it too is part of me.
All these parts that make a whole. Parts from my Dad, Grandparents, and just from my own life experiences all combine to make me who I am.
When judging our parents and holding them accountable for perceived weakness and failures, are we not in some ways judging ourselves? We do not walk step by step in their every footstep. We only walk part of their journey through life, and they only walk part of our journey. By judging our parents, we serve judgement on their journey, and we discredit the shared path we have walked. I hope to someday have better understanding of my Mom and her journey.
Mother, thanks. Thanks for taking the time to raise me in your fashion, the best way you knew how. Thanks for taking me to the Dentist and the Doctor, and for bandaging my cuts and scrapes. Thanks for my yearly birthday movie night. Thanks for working so hard to provide me a great education, and for keeping food on the table when times were tough. Thanks for all the dishes washed, clothes washed, and for taking me to buy school clothes. Thanks for signing me up for little league and boy scouts. Thanks for summer vacations at Mingus Mountain and Indiana. Thanks particularly for my terrific siblings who I love so dearly. And thanks for doing the very best you knew how to do, with what you had, and in your own fashion.
I know that there will be a time when my spirit is reunited with my parents. That is part of my faith. I hope then I will have a better understanding of Mom's journey when we meet again. We will have so much to talk about.
Cheers, nca
How that passed to me was mostly in the writing arts. Though I have made videos, podcasts, and more. I fancied myself a poet at one time, and still dabble at that. I received a fraction of her creative skills, and am grateful for that. I get great joy from being able to create something different.
I have strong compassion for equality and fairness. My Mom installed those things in my from a young age. Sadly, late in life she may have lost some of that from her conversation and makeup, but not until it was passed on to me. I hope that as time carries on for me that I don't lose sight of that, it is important to me and worthy of retaining. I fear that age may wither passion from the vine....perhaps it did for her.
In some ways, Mom's failings have shaped me too. For better and for worse. I have strong feelings about 'no kid should ever feel neglected by their parent'. No one should feel unwanted. That every child deserves an attentive parent or Grandparent. This is not to judge my Mother on her motherhood, rather to judge me on allowing those feelings to foster in my youth. It pains me now to think of another youth to have to sample from that bitter well.
To me, as a youth...Mom seemed distant and aloof. Not fully engaged. I share this trait too, which serves me no great service. I apologize to those who may have experienced this from me. My wife particularly. That this one trait from my Mother has continued on in me is no great blessing. Yet, folks....it too is part of me.
All these parts that make a whole. Parts from my Dad, Grandparents, and just from my own life experiences all combine to make me who I am.
When judging our parents and holding them accountable for perceived weakness and failures, are we not in some ways judging ourselves? We do not walk step by step in their every footstep. We only walk part of their journey through life, and they only walk part of our journey. By judging our parents, we serve judgement on their journey, and we discredit the shared path we have walked. I hope to someday have better understanding of my Mom and her journey.
Mother, thanks. Thanks for taking the time to raise me in your fashion, the best way you knew how. Thanks for taking me to the Dentist and the Doctor, and for bandaging my cuts and scrapes. Thanks for my yearly birthday movie night. Thanks for working so hard to provide me a great education, and for keeping food on the table when times were tough. Thanks for all the dishes washed, clothes washed, and for taking me to buy school clothes. Thanks for signing me up for little league and boy scouts. Thanks for summer vacations at Mingus Mountain and Indiana. Thanks particularly for my terrific siblings who I love so dearly. And thanks for doing the very best you knew how to do, with what you had, and in your own fashion.
I know that there will be a time when my spirit is reunited with my parents. That is part of my faith. I hope then I will have a better understanding of Mom's journey when we meet again. We will have so much to talk about.
Cheers, nca
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