In appreciation . . .

While reading the ending of The Joy Luck Club, a line resonated within that I think explains so much of my guilt that I've had since my mother passed away. For those of you who don't know the basic story line of the book, here it is. The story revolves around a daughter whose mother passed away and the close friends of her mother's and their daughters. The points of view shift throughout the story and the main lesson to be learned, in my opinion, is how the mothers' pasts shaped, either directly or indirectly, the lives of their daughters. In the book, the last chapter is from the motherless daughter's point of view. And she says, "They'll think I'm responsible, that she died because I didn't appreciate her." That realization is the very same thing I feared when my mother was dying, or rather I feared that, in my case, my mother would die thinking I didn't love her. For I certainly thought my mother died hating me. And that, couldn't have been farther from the truth.

So, there it is . . . it seems so simplistic, so easy. But, it is full of so much emotion from the past. I know that there is no way my mother knew, at least from my words and, likely actions, that I appreciated her. That I admired her drive for what she believed in. That while I thought she was ridiculously stubborn, strict and unflexible she was appreciated. That she was loved so dearly by me. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, so of course I always think about what I could have done differently, what I could have said. This is true down to the very last time I saw her. The last time I saw my mother, I didn't even speak to her. She was laying in her bed, floating in and out of consciousness. Truth be told, I didn't even approach her. Part of me was afraid, part of me was angry, part of me was being stubborn. It was resolved in my mind that I was done meeting her more than halfway and walking away angry, disappointed because she would just push my buttons. Yes, she managed to do that even while in her last weeks, days. I couldn't see the bigger picture. I couldn't see past my own anger and bitterness. I couldn't see past my own fear because seriously, what would I do if she did die? To approach her, see her as she really was, to me, would only be acknowledgement of what was going on. And that was the last thing I wanted to do. She was my mother . . . there was no way she was actually going to die. But, the thing is, she did. And she did so without my ever telling her how I really felt. She did so and I lost my chance to tell her that regardless of everything I loved her and appreciated everything she had ever done for me. And moreso, that I appreciated every lesson and value that she instilled in me. 

Now, I know that most will say of course she knew that I loved her and that of course she knew that she was appreciated by her only daughter. But of all times for my words and voice to fail me, the last time I saw my mother couldn't have been a worse time. I truly didn't think that she would die two days later. I thought there would be more time. I thought, next time. And so, I've spent the last eight years searching and searching for the answers. Searching for closure, searching for peace. And this year has been the first year where I feel as though the pieces are falling into place. Where I have been open to really reflecting on her life and her actions as well as what my actions are and have been; what my life has been and is. I think this is the first year where I am able to say that through my actions, will my mother or anyone else be able to see that I truly did appreciate her and all that she did. Put all her professional achievements aside . . . it's her personal side that I appreciate. The hardness, the stubbornness, the sillyness, the pure fun that made her who she was. It is mainly due to her that I am the way that I am. It is because of her that I have such firm stances on how I would like my children to be raised. It is because of her that I know what I do and do not want for my professional life. And I'm not saying that in a bad way. And though I don't want every aspect of my married life to reflect what her marriage was to my father, I do know that there are incredible aspects of their marriage that I would want mirrored in my own. 

It is because of my mother that I know who I am. Or at least really seeing and learning who I am. It is because of every aspect of my mother's life that I know what I want for myself and those who I include in my life. How could I not appreciate an incredible woman like that? It's absurd. But, admittedly, I thought for so long that it was my fault. That I didn't love her enough, didn't see her enough, didn't talk to her enough, didn't let her know enough that through it all she was an incredible mother. I know that she died because she was diagnosed with lung cancer well into its last stages where much couldn't be done. I know, rationally, that once it had spread to her bones and her brain that much couldn't be done. But, it didn't negate the incredible amount of guilt I felt. And it is really only now that I understand and realize where that guilt came from . . . that all would think she died because I didn't appreciate her enough. Because quite honestly, it was no secret among the entire family and friends that my mother and I fought more often than not. That's the shame that I brought on and carried myself. Is it true that people blame me for her dying because I didn't appreciate her enough? Reality and rational thinking would say no. But, that's where I was in my head and emotions. And when it comes to emotions of that caliber . . . reality and rational thinking don't really guide. 

Now, I know that it is my responsibility to live my life and quietly demonstrate my appreciation of my mother's life and all the lessons that can be learned. It is my job, as her only daughter, to pass on her knowledge, values and whatever else to my children (hopefully including a daughter) and all those around me. Appreciation is not done with words alone.