Comments on: Other days, they take you utterly by surprise

By: Mama non grata

Mama non grata — Thu, 05 Feb 2009 19:03:30 +0000

Thank you for this. Not only, and especially, for the ruminations on your mother, but also for the admission that some days they do drive you nuts.

My own four-year-old is working through the ramifications of the potential loss of his mothers, and, in so doing, is pushing many of my own buttons, unintentionally (for a change, or so it sometimes seems).

http://mamanongrata.blogspot.com/2009/02/heart-break.html

The loss informs everything, parenting, of course, in particular.

By: Shane

Shane — Thu, 05 Feb 2009 18:57:45 +0000

While you feel regret about not learning to play your Mother’s cherished instrument, think how wonderful it will be should your eldest child learn to love it as much as her grandmother once did. I know that all of my Grandfather’s proudest moments watching me grow after my Grandmother passed, involved me doing, without ever knowing or thinking about where I may have gotten the talent from, all those creative things that once made my grandmother happy and her children rejected. Though it may or may not be in the genes, I think we somehow know, through pictures and stories perhaps, what once made our ancestors happiest and eventually that tradition is once again picked up from it’s dusty case and given new life.

And, thank you for all your tumbling of words. I often come here when searching for inspiration for my own writing. Your words seem to flow so freely and often reading stories like this one triggers an idea for something I have been struggling to put into my own words.

By: Lesbian Dad

Lesbian Dad — Thu, 05 Feb 2009 10:20:47 +0000

Thank you both, ohchicken and cardamom.

I so thoroughly believe that we are all informed by the losses we’ve incurred — and no one gets more than halfway through their life without a big one, I’m convinced. The difference is simply in the degree to which we watch their impact, and mine them for a brighter vision. Since I believe too few of us experience enough space in which to “go there” and feel all that (and those of us who take or make that space so often feel alone), I take it upon myself to go there often. Though truthfully, “there” comes to me. Probably because I sit still as often as possible.

Anyway, thank you. And I am so sorry, each of you, for your losses.

By: cardamom

cardamom — Wed, 04 Feb 2009 11:02:36 +0000

Having a child made me feel very strongly that I could not bear losing my mother. We had not been that close but parenting myself strengthened our bond. I wanted her as a background presence for me and as a grandmother for my child – forever. Of course, life did not grant me the wish for my mother’s immortality – she died a year and a half ago after a very intense six months of me caring for her through an illness. My daughter was not quite five at the time. I hope she will have memories that last.
I’ve always enjoyed how your writing is informed by the losses you’ve incurred. It makes it real.

By: ohchicken

ohchicken — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 16:19:05 +0000

my father left a tumble of words, scattered between hundreds of floppy disks and dogeared printed pages paperclipped and filed in manila folders.

i’ve carried them from pennsylvania to ohio to tennessee to texas. his words are presence. i remember i remember, even when i forget.

already, i’m shoring up my presence for my daughter. it’s the best i, we, can do, being the writing sort.

your girl will know you well when she reads this post as an adult.

By: Lesbian Dad

Lesbian Dad — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 15:13:46 +0000

That’s it, right there. The toughest thing we have to prepare them for. Feels like a week doesn’t go by that I don’t think about it.

By: wyliekat

wyliekat — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 14:30:57 +0000

That is among the top most brutally difficult things I’ve had to contend with as a parent – the fear of leaving them too soon. I still struggle with the fear of it daily. My own mortality meant nothing at all to me before I became a parent, and now the question of “when” haunts me daily. Not for myself, but for them.

Yeesh.