I’m lucky. I have an amazing daughter. Our relationship has its share of thorns and blossoms along its rosy path, but I’m fortunate to have a child, who is responsible, beautiful and alive. Many people do not have a child or lost their child(ren), and I’m sorry for their loss. This Mother’s Day I made sure to visit Shea. Last year I grieved the distance and vowed not to do so again. We spent three full days together and enjoyed each other’s company. Our time wasn’t without conflict but quickly resolved. Gradually, we are learning how to relate as adults with differing needs and expectations.
This Mother’s Day I made sure I saw Shea. Last year I grieved the distance and vowed not to do so again. We spent three full days together and enjoyed each other’s company. We did the things we both enjoy, walking, shopping, eating out, talking, hiking and miniature golfing. Our time wasn’t without conflict but quickly resolved. Gradually, we are learning how to relate as adults with differing needs and expectations.
While I didn’t have a mother for very long, I’ve had a stepmother for four decades. She isn’t evil, crazy or mad. She is simply my opposite in significant ways. I am a high-touch physical person; she is low touch. While she if able to accept hugs she still stiffens at the touch. A social conservative she supports Cruz. A liberal Democrat I want Bernie or Hillary. She is polite, unemotional and calm. Words that rarely described me. Direct and intense describe me best. She is polite to a fault, meaning she says nothing rather than implying something negative. There have been a lot of silences from her corner since I became an adult. To her, most of my life has been unmentionable. With gay marriage now the norm, at least in California, she can discuss my being gay, but I’m doubtful she’ll handle any future partners well. She rarely asks anyone questions, believing they will tell her what they want her to know. Others assume she doesn’t care about them since she doesn’t ask. Now, I tell her what I desire, even risking discomfort for one or both of us.
This year I didn’t send her a Mother’s Day card. It is too hard to find one that states why I’m thankful for her and reading dozens of cards about having extraordinary mothers since birth causes too much heartbreak. Or I dream of my daughter giving me one of the cards, wanting to believe I was so wonderful.
On Sunday, I called my stepmother, made sure she heard from her granddaughter, and I told her I loved her. Regular phone calls, occasional visits, and heartfelt, “I love you” will have to do – for my stepmother, my daughter and me.
I survived another mother’s day. I’m glad you did too.