Musings from the Ozone

A strange title to be sure, but just the thought of celebrating Mother's day, without my mother, for the first time in my life, nearly jumped out at me tonight and made me think I can't enjoy the day in the same way ever again.  How can such a special day be celebrated without my mother?  I realized afresh that now, Mother's day will not, nor ever will again be the same for me!  How will I even try to think of a Mother's day without her being alive and well?  The mind has a lot of readjusting to do when the reality of a death finally sinks in.  Oh, I went through a similar dilemma nearly 32 years ago when my father died, because that first Father's day without daddy seemed so bleak.  I can't even remember how I tried to celebrate the day set aside for remembrance of my father?  I guess I will stumble through the day and try to be oblivious to any nagging pain of being an orphan!  

Here are some facts: I am a mother, but I can hardly celebrate myself for being a mother?  My only living sister is a mother, but, then she and I will be remembered by our children--not each other.  My sister-in-law is a mother.  Even my daughter's are mothers, but  with those acknowledgements,  I can't find anyone to take the place of my own mother.  The thought of buying a mother's day card for other mothers would leave  me feeling cold. 

It seems that  I am faced with a large hole in my heart that cannot be filled;  the vast emptiness of losing my mother is  like I am closing a long book, but am dissatisfied with the ending.  The book was so entertaining, so riveting, so engrossing of mind and emotions, that I didn't ever want to see it end.  Those types of books can become classics simply because they have engaged one's  emotions and senses for hours:  even to the person's omission of food or chores and duties.  My mother's life was a very long book, as she lived until she was just 3 weeks short of her 94th birthday.  No one in her family had lived so long!

 My mother was a special kind of person; a dynamic kind of person that you could never forget.  As a young child, I recognized that she  could immediately engage  in conversation with people.  She was what they call today a 'people person'.  Then, I didn't know the terminology, but I noticed how she would take time to talk to people over the backyard fence, at PTA meetings, on the phone, in  many  visits people made to our home, at church, or just anyplace where there would be people!  We were always visiting someone, it seemed.  We owed that busy social life to our mother, as our father was a quiet man and of few words.  Mother always was quick to speak to people, and in some ways she became the mouthpiece of the family.  Early on in life, I even learned that before she opened her mouth, she could reveal her feelings, since her eyes would flash or twinkle, betraying her thoughts.  She was never 'unemotional' about life.  When someone lost a loved one, my mother could be the first one to give comfort.  She could empathize so  deeply, and give sympathy so completely to a person in need. 

 My grandfather was Greek, and if any of his children acted like a Greek, it was surely my mother.  After several visits to Greece in my adulthood, I saw many similarities in her actions and the Greeks in the old country.  The Greeks I met showed deep and passionate  emotions.  This was so true of my mother, as her emotions could range from bubbling laughter one minute  to iconic anger in the next.  If there would be sadness, my mother would feel it first, although she didn't want to give into a sad spirit for very long.  I can remember, many times, she would just close off the conversation if it got too painful or heavy.  I admit that I didn't tell many of my heart's secrets to her as a teenager, for fear of her reaction--shock, anger or maybe criticism.  She just didn't like to talk about the rough edges of life.  I think that our generation was some of the first that began talking freely about some subjects; mother's generation did not discuss many personal matters with their children.  Even today I get a little flustered at the loose talk of youth, remembering that it wasn't something we did in our home.  I guess my mother would be called prudish by modern day standards, but she did manage to maintain a dignity and mysteriousness about 'adult' life.  Mother and daddy were very romantic with each other; they would hug and kiss sweetly in front of us children.  The way they treated each other was the way I thought it should be in every marriage.  My father treated mother like his queen, and she in turn, loved and respected him as her gallant knight in armor.  I know that phrase alone sounds like a very lofty description, but it was true.  Everyone knew they loved each other completely and truly.  Their attitude towards each other spoke loud and clear to us children.  They didn't just preach love and faithfulness; they lived it out before us.

   My mother smiled a lot and loved to laugh.  That was especially good for my father, as he was great at remembering and telling jokes.  He had a ready-made audience with my mother at his side, because although she wasn't very good at telling jokes herself, she was the first to laugh at anything funny that he said.  When our Greek relatives would come to visit, we would love to hear the adults laughing and telling hilarious stories while drinking their coffee and eating cake or some sweet dessert.  How I wish I could hear my mother laugh again!  

At mother's funeral, many of the grandchildren, family members, and friends regaled us with stories of her penchant for hats, gloves and heels.  Hats and gloves have gone out of fashion on the whole, but the dignity and charm it afforded my mother was something that is missing from modern day dress.  She always looked stunning!  Even a trip to a Goodwill store didn't change the way she operated.  She would wear a little tam, and a smaller high heel, but nevertheless, it was her trademark to look dressy at all times.  She respected herself and people treated her accordingly.

The many memories of my mother, although they come in a disjointed and rambling fashion, have made me realize that I see many things the same way that my mother did!  I would never wear curlers in public, as she felt that was a hideous thing to do.  She always pressed her clothes and they would never have a spot on them.  Ironing has gone out of fashion, perhaps, but I cannot stand to have wrinkles in my clothes either.  To mother, mealtimes had to be a calm and relaxing time with the family, and I find I cannot eat a meal where there is chaos either.   She loved roses, candlelight dinners, soft music and quiet voices.  Mother seem to make beauty out of nothing?  I think I always felt that I lived in the shadow of her beauty.  

The most important and vital essence of my mother was her love for spiritual things.  I have a diary she kept in the days when her mind began to slip.  Even in an altered state of mind, she would write; "Oh, Lord, how I love you!......Oh, my God, how I want to see you face to face someday!'   The strongest thread of spirituality ran through her personality.   I did feel like the Lord came first in her life. Her prayer life was exemplary, she could preach, sing, play the piano and organ, write songs and poetry.  With the addition of physical beauty and love for beautiful things and atmospheres,  it made me and my siblings feel proud of her.  

What do I miss the most about my mother?  I miss my refuge during the times of stress.  Yes, God fills all the void, but there was something special about picking up the phone (as an adult) and calling her with the latest news.  I had an adult friendship with my mother. That was something that I took pride in!  At the age of 26, I had a terrible crisis of finding my own self.  In my naivety, I thought it was my mother who was holding me back from growing up.  I was married, and even had two children, but the ties with my mother were so powerful, I didn't know how to wean myself away from her gracefully.  I was so dependent on her approval for everything!  One night, I just blew up at her!  I told her how I felt about things (first time in my life to speak up so forcefully to her) but immediately I regretted my outburst.  Seeing on her face, the tears and shock that I had caused, just reduced me to a pulp.  A few days or so later, I apologized to her, but I was still very confused over what I meant and what I had said.  She forgave me, and ever so gradually, I began to recognize a difference in our relationship.  Never again did she 'boss' me like a child.   She began treating me with a carefulness of a friend, and I began to relax and tell her my heart.  It was wonderful!  She recognized that I was an adult, and I appreciated her acceptance of that!  In the new closeness that I developed, my mother became my best friend.    

Can we actually put in words the pain we feel of a Mother's day without our mother?  I think the only thing I can do is try to emulate her life of service to God and others.  I hear her voice still within my mind; laughing at something funny with me, chiding me when I make a bad choice, reminding me to get my priorities straight, love my husband and children, be loyal to family always, be discreet with my talking, take time for a nap, etc.  On and on her voice still speaks......through the years in my heart.....