Looking Backwards...

"We grow up thinking that our parents never understand our struggles, but the truth is they made sure we never felt theirs."

-Unknown

Mother's Day is looming around the corner, and for the first time in 10 years I will be celebrating alone. Part of it is from our social distancing quarantine, part of it is as a single mother with no spouse to take the boys to pick out cards and flowers for me and part of it is having my mother in another state far away. I went to bed last night pondering this, and the funny thing is, last night I dreamed about my father. He has been gone over 5 years now, and I recently received notice in the mail that I would be given some money (1/6 of what was left remaining in his retirement account). It has come at a time when it is much appreciated, and though only a few hundred dollars it was a reminder of him and a blessing nonetheless.

I can honestly say that I am not who I have become without either of my parents. They have both contributed to my personality, my character, and of course my physical attributes--height (thanks, Dad), body shape (thanks, Mom). My dad left my mom when I was 15--right around their 17 year anniversary. He was in love with another woman he had met online and "connected" with. This was back in 1994--before the online we know about today. My mother was 17 when she married and at that point--had spent half her life with my dad. Needless to say, she was devastated. So were the three of us. My brother and sister and I watched Hayley Mills and tried to recreate the perfect "Parent Trap" to get them back together. It didn't work.

What happened after was a bit of a shit show, if I'm being completely honest. My mother was struggling--trying to make ends meet in a state where she had no friends or family (dad was military so we were stationed in Virginia), and she had been a stay at home mom. So she had to pull herself together and try and get back in the workforce as well as be a single mother of 3.

We saw our dad on the weekends, and he spent all his spare money treating us to McDonald's, Slurpees from 7-11, and video game rentals from Blockbuster. As the eldest, I took particular pains to make sure that I helped clean his apartment when we were there, baked for him so he had some snacks to eat while we were gone, and we all did laundry with him at the laundromat right next to the 7-11. I can still recall the sizzling heat as we sat with our legs hanging over the tail of his blue station wagon, trying to drink our Slurpees before they melted but not so fast that we got brain freezes!

This created an imbalanced amount of pity towards my father--who had made the active choice to leave his family behind, and a greater amount of resentment towards my mother--who was left with the job of picking up the pieces of her life, providing everything for her three kids to try and maintain stability, and neglecting herself in the process.

Was she perfect, far from it. She was lonely, and did not know what to do with herself. She went out and dated a lot and tried to find a good father for us. She failed. Several times in fact. And what did we do? We judged. We scoffed. We gave our mother a really hard time.

She didn't show us her pain and suffering. She pressed on, working long hours, trying to make sure we had everything we needed, and crying to herself when argued with her or compared her to dad.

Now I sit here, not quite 17 years into my own failed marriage with my 2 boys and the tears are streaming down my face. All those years. All the judgment.

And she took it.

She took all the rocks we threw at her and still tried to do her best. I look around me and see: a messy house, toys on the floor, dishes needing to be washed, piles of work to be done, and my sons-each on their iPads. Then I think back and see the same view only 25 years ago: the messy house, the tears in her eyes, and my sister and brother and I watching tv.

It took me a couple of months to even have the courage to tell my mom. It is something you never want to tell your parents--that you failed. When I told her my husband left me, she didn't say "I told you so," or judge me or question what went wrong. She empathized.

She said, "I'm so sorry, hon. I know you hurt like hell."

And she really does.

I'm able to talk to her and ugly cry and she doesn't judge me in the least. Because she's been there.

So Mom, I know you are reading this--this post is for you. I love you and feel like I REALLY SEE YOU. Thank you for all you have struggled through and NOT shown us. Thank you for all the hardships you have suffered through, you were trying to do your best to navigate through life and difficult situations--just as we all do as we grow up. I'd like to think I can learn from you and do better, but the truth is, all we can do is our best.

Happy Mother's Day--to all mothers, stepmothers, mother in laws, mother figures, and caretakers. You all deserve a big THANKS! Never stop caring, loving and trying to do your best!