It's not a circus, I promise you

Good approach: Be a friend or as close to a mother on the motherless one’s terms.

Bad approach: Don’t state that you are the “step mother” or “new” mother. Don’t act like the replacement mother.  

Given my age and when my mother died, honestly, the last person I need is someone trying to replace my mother or even trying the “mother” me in the smallest way. I don’t mean that to be rude, I don’t mean that to be insensitive to anyone. It’s just the truth. And I know there are women out there who understand this concept; who understand that at a certain point in time, what a motherless daughter needs and most likely wants is a friend. Yet I understand that it is likely a hard balance to maintain or even achieve. 

Since my mother passed away, there have been encounters with older women who have attempted just about every approach that exists. I’ve met the woman who flat out told me she is my “new” mother. Umm – no. I think it took every bone in my body to not punch this woman. No joke. I’ve met the woman who easily crosses the line to mothering me. Again, no. As soon as that line is crossed, every bone in my body tenses and I want to scream. But I refrain. And, I met a woman who struck the balance seemingly just right. It is easy for me to say this because she isn’t my own mother and I am able to see her through the eyes of an outsider, not someone in her family. But, for me, navigating through the motherless world, again . . . this particular mother could not have hit it any more perfectly. Having gotten to know each other and spent time together, you could say we forged a relationship. So, during a visit, while we were in the kitchen, she simply conveyed to me that she would never try to replace my mother, she would never try to be a mother to me but that she would always be a friend. Good approach.

Though I know mothers of other people in my life will always take the best interests of their own child first, as it should be. But, I also know that this particular mother will always be true to her word. That she will be a friend, that she will not try and be a mother. And that brings me to a place where I am able to listen to what she has to say without mistrust. That her words carry good intentions. It brings me to a place that when I am with her, I don’t feel like I am putting on appearances, but that I am truly happy to be in her company and in her home. 

Now THAT, strikes the balance for a motherless daughter. Thank you.

Motherless Bride . . . the Beginning

Here’s the entry that I was trying to avoid. I’ve spent countless sitdowns in front of my computer trying to avoid this very post . . . but I find it is impossible, so I better just grab it by the horns and just write.

Awesome news – yes, as we all know, the love of my life proposed to me on January 9, 2009. And I could not have been happier. In fact, what a great thing that our family and close friends were just as happy. Ok, maybe not as happy as we were, but happy nonetheless. To know that being his wife is literally the next step – makes me breathless.

Not so awesome news – I’m not sure how I feel about planning this incredible event with the absence of my mother. I know milestone events in life should not and cannot be avoided. And I know I should soak up every milestone moment regardless of who is present and who is not. Because, really, those who are not of this world anymore as with us . . . at least, that’s what I choose to believe. Yet, there is a difference between the actual being here and idea of being here. It is the actual NOT being here that I struggle with now that I am engaged. 

For our own reasons, there is a desire for a proper Church wedding . . . whether it’s because it is the “right” thing to do or that I want the memory of my father walking me down the aisle, there are reasons for a Church wedding followed by a reception. However, when I picture it, someone is missing . . . clearly, that someone is my mother. She won’t be at the wedding and she won’t be with me every step of the way as I look for a dress, decide on flowers or even think about colors. See, I always thought when I got married (again), my mother would be an active participant with the planning, etc. 

It’s not that I don’t have women in my life who would be more than happy to help. In fact, my aunt, my mother’s youngest sister, has already offered to help me plan. And I know that all it would take is a phone call with a simple request. But this just seems like one of those things where I would want my mommy, so to speak. I know reality, though. My mother is not here and there will be a Church wedding. So now the task becomes embracing the event and all that it entails myself along with asking and accepting help along the way. 

Continuing Forward

So a couple of weeks ago I went back to Church. Now, to some of you, that may not seem like a big deal. However, in this particular case . . . it actually was a big deal. I have not been back to the Church that my mother’s funeral service was in since she passed away. Nevermind the fact that I don’t regularly go to Church. At all. 

This is how it went . . . after parking the car, I just sat there. All I could do to prevent myself from leaving was to sit in my car and breath. Finally, when I realized that mass was about to start, I got out of my car and walked towards the church. As I looked up at the stairs leading to the Church, all I could see were flashbacks of walking down those stairs after my mother’s service. To be honest, all I wanted to do was leave. I didn’t want to go. Deep breaths. I continued with my deep breaths. I walked up the stairs, took one last breath and walked in the doors. At that time, the Church was still a little quiet. I picked a pew towards the back and just sat down. Slowly, my nerves started to settle. Slowly, I started to feel more comfortable. Church started.

The mass itself was easy . . . it’s like riding a bike. There are just some things you don’t forget after doing them over and over again. But, what was different was that for the first time in a long while, I felt warm and comfortable in the church. I felt like I belonged. It started to feel good that I was there and got past the “when I was here last” syndrome. 

When I left, I felt lighter, I felt good. I felt that this was just another step towards letting go of my mother. Of course I’ll always know that the Church is where the funeral service took place. But, that doesn’t have to stop me from going there or make me sad. It doesn’t have to cause fear. I don’t have to avoid it. There have been many things and places that I didn’t do or go because of the connection those things and places have to my mother. But, as each day passes, I realize I cannot live in fear. I cannot avoid places just because it is somehow associated with my mother. She wouldn’t want me to live in fear or avoid places we used to go to together. 

Clearly she wouldn’t want me to avoid the church especially given that it’s a venue where I may be getting married. Where she left off . . . I will pick up and continue. For that is the legacy of mother to daughter . . . Daughter to wife. And, hopefully, someday, wife to mother.