Short Thoughts on Mother's Day

A Somewhat Contrarian View

All the homages to mothers on Mother’s Day on Facebook beg the question (just for me, personally; I doubt it’s an area of concern for anyone else) of why I don’t participate in the nostalgia. 

My mother died almost six and a half years ago. That I don’t post pictures or pen paeans to her memory might lead one to believe she was a terrible mother and I had a nasty childhood. I can assure you that isn’t true. She did the best she could, worked hard at motherhood, given who she was and how she grew up. That, I firmly believe, is the most we can ask of any parent, and, in fact, she did a better job of motherhood than some of the recipients of the lavish praise on this day.

The fact of the matter was, we didn’t really like each other, something we had discussed and acknowledged. That has nothing to do with love, of course. It’s a bonus when those two feelings coincide, just not a bonus we enjoyed.

So I’m not really sentimental about her. I don’t really miss her. I do regret that she died just as she was starting to figure out the meaning, and value, of unconditional love. Carolyn, Nicci (both of whom, more easily than I, accepted her for who she was and thus offered me a model) and, by virtue of her mere existence, Becca deserve the credit there. 

Her defenses dropped. She even gave herself a warm nickname (GG, for Great Grandma). As she held Becca -- and actually asked to babysit -- I saw spontaneous warmth and love, something I wish she had learned earlier, but at least those feelings were honest and present at the end. To expect more than that is probably not realistic.