Today is my grandmother's birthday. She would have been 73. On a whim, I called my mom and asked her to write a guest post. It arrived in my inbox an hour later. Mom's good like that.
When I read her words, it reminded me that we can't always wrap our stories in a pretty bow. Sometimes, we must take the endings we are given and make our peace with them.
So ladies and gentleman, here's Mom. But you can call her Debbie:
As a young girl, I wasn't that close to my mom. I was a daddy's girl. When I walked into a room, his face would light up like a Christmas tree. But my mom and I really struggled with our relationship. We were always butting heads.
But, when Dad died in 1988, our relationship began to change. The love of our lives was gone, and now, all we had was each other. We had many talks to try to figure out what went wrong in our relationship, and finally one night over dinner, she told me she'd been jealous of my relationship with my dad. Quite a brave thing to say, I think.
And despite that, my mom was always there for me in a crisis, no matter what that might be. She stroked my arm while I was sick, wiped my tears when my heart was broken and had my back when I needed it. Maya Angelo has said, "When you know better, you do better." And my mom did.
My mom married at 18 and had a life of extremes, in the relationship and financially. But there was plenty of love and laughter, even in the most difficult times. I lost my mom many years ago, on June 11, 1993-- the day that would have been her 35th wedding anniversary. Instead, she met my dad in heaven.
As we approach Mother's Day, I've watched on Facebook as friends change their profile pictures to photos of their mothers. It made me wish I had a scanner, because there are several I'd love to post and be proud.*
I love and miss you, Mom, every day of my life.
*Thanks to the ability to take pictures of pictures and email them to ourselves, Mom's wish has been granted.
Mom's moderating the comments today. Feel free to chat with her below, or tell her hi on Facebook.