A few nights ago, I listened quietly as two friends spoke about how often they spent time with their mothers. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I remembered my own mother who passed away in 2001. I have spent the past few days thinking about my mother and her influence. I may not be able to ask her for advice. We can't meet for lunch or an afternoon of shopping. We can no longer chat on the phone. I can't kiss her hello or goodbye, laugh or cry with her. Yet, she still lives within my heart and my soul. I am so fortunate she left us the gift of a set of Cd's she had recorded about her life. I am also left with memories of a wonderful relationship and the lessons she bequeathed me.
1. Always wear clean underwear (in case you are in an accident, God forbid.) As I revisit her advice, I have a strong visual of waiting to be dropped off by my nursery school carpool. My mother is standing on the curb while my baby brother napped inside the house. She is well coiffed in a sixties bubble cut, wearing mascara and a red and gold brocade sleeveless shell with matching capri's, probably a cute pair of flats. When we reminisce about my mother, someone always brings up her panache and effort to look put together. She was not one to leave the house in sweats, except when walking with her friends. Although I occasionally wear Lululemon yoga clothes to pick up my daughters from school, I try to follow suit. And I always wear clean underwear!
2. When you feel sorry for yourself, the best thing to do is help others. She often added, "Think of others who have it worse." It took me more than a few therapy sessions to release the guilt for negative emotions. Looking back, I am not sure my mother meant to avoid acknowledging feelings. Her focus was on helping others to add meaning to our lives. When my mother lost her father to congestive heart failure when he was 62, she decided to be trained as a hospice volunteer, in part to learn to deal with death. I admired her path to inner growth as well as her commitment to helping others. Volunteerism and philanthropy have always played a tremendous role in my life. I thank my parents as role models in their dedication to helping others.
3. Relationships cannot endure without chemistry and passion. Romantic relationships are difficult at best. My mom talked to me about how much she loved my father and she was able to look at his schtick and laugh because they had so much chemistry...the chemistry was the glue. I would extend this lesson to our close friendships. Think about your closest friends. Invariably, they are the people with the same level of passion for life and a shared chemistry, albeit in a non-sexual sense. We are attracted to some people, not so much to others. That magnetism is necessary for bonding.
4. Laughter is powerful. My mother never told me this. My childhood memories of Tuesday nights involve trying to get to sleep to the soundtrack of her bridge group's chortles, guffaws, and howling laughter. I used to wonder what was so funny. When I am with my father's side of the family, we spend a significant amount of time joking, doubled over in laughter. Ability to find humor in even the most trying of situations is a treasure. Laughter is the best medicine and a sense of humor is the most powerful tool of attraction!
5. Adversity is a gift. My mom was diagnosed with advanced breast cancer at the age of 55. She had just lost her mother to multiple myeloma, after nursing her for several months. Throughout her battle, she discussed with my aunt and the rest of us that she considered having cancer as a gift. It made her stronger and more confident. If she could face cancer head on, or any other dreaded disease, she could deal with anything. As I grew up, my mom often identified with being a worrier. She would consider calling the Wayne Police if I showed up half an hour late. She knew every alternative route, to avoid driving on the highway which was an anxiety-provoking experience for her. She refused to drive over bridges. Looking back, her resolve to avoid driving on Route 46 led her to different paths. She was strong and determined. She just didn't see it until the final years of her life.
Along with her recipe for brisket, the infamous Simon family apple pie, freckles, and dark hair, my mom imparted me with the values of beauty and passion, volunteerism and selflessness, laughter and courage.
I love you, Mommy!
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