We wave goodbye to the Mothers series with drawing #4.

 

Mother's Day #4 2014

This is true of fathers too, by the way.

The Gift

When I left home in 1973 for college, I really left.  I went to college in Ohio, then Massachusetts, then moved to Hollywood, then to more college in Southern California, then to Michigan and back to California, this time Northern.  I felt confident and able to make my way in the world and that is what I did.  My parents raised me so I would be able to do that. I am very grateful for that gift.

The Forgetting

But with that confidence also came a forgetfulness. I forgot how much I had, at one point, needed them, especially my mother.  I wish now I had repaid that attention with attention back to her in her later years. While I visited with some regularity, it really wasn’t as much as it should have been.  My mother taught me well how to cope, and how not to cope, with life.  I learned invaluable lessons from her, even when she was not aware of her teaching me.  I did let her know some of that, and thank her for it, as best I was even aware of it at the time. But she died when she was young, only 62, and I was deep in the middle of raising young kids at the time, not really all the way to the place where I understood the lessons so I wasn’t able to thank her as I would want to now.

The Much Sweet and The little Bitter

Now my daughters are all grown. And all of them are strong and independent and able to make their way in the world.  They make their missteps just as I did, but for the most part they are more than capable of correcting the misstep and moving on.  They like hearing from me and they probably call me more than I call them.  But they don’t need me the way they once did.  A little bittersweet but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The joy of seeing someone who once knew nothing of how to cope with the world navigate through it with class and intelligence is a heart-filling thing for a parent.   I think it is probably easier for me, maybe as a man, maybe just as me, I am not sure, than it is for their mothers.  But even though it might be harder, I know it makes them so very proud to see their daughters strong and capable, able to move forward on their own, just as it does me as well.

What is your story of letting go of your mother or your child?  Was it easy, hard?  How did you do it?

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Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman

Quote by Barbara Kingsolver, 1955 – not dead yet, American author

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