ALT-2 Happy Mothers Day a Personal Note to the Woman who Raised me
I am writing this article to give thanks to my mother, to try to make sense of my mixed feelings about my mother. Over the last fifty years my feelings and ideas, my thoughts about her have changed. In some ways they have changed for the best and in others, probably not so good. Yet, in looking back there is a constant, she is always there.
A little background here, I am an illegitimate child, born to an eighteen year old girl in a small religious town. I was born in nineteen fifty-six. So you can get, perhaps, some small inkling of what it would have been like for her. Today this would be nothing, but in nineteen fifty-six it was huge. It must have been hard living as an unwed mother at eighteen in a town where everybody knows you, a town of strong moral convictions and most likely a town of pointing fingers and judgments.
So the first thing I want to do is to salute my mother's courage and give thanks for giving me life. Even in small town Canada in the fifties an abortion would not have been impossible. Or to have given birth and thrown me away, or left me on some police station steps or any thing like that, these things I could understand happening. But my mother had me and kept me.
Two things are at play here, a strong moral ethic and an understanding of life and its purpose and her place in it. Mom had the strength to accept responsibility for her choices and live with them. And she understood then and understands now the sacredness of family. She knows that families have an eternal perspective. The most important fact that I have been left with in considering the circumstances of my birth is this; my mother no matter what else she is, what else she may have felt or what else she could have done, loves me.
In our relationship over the years we have had great moments of closeness, we have had our disagreements, we have experienced times of distance and we sometimes didn't talk enough. In short, we have a normal mother and son relationship. In looking back over my life I have come to understand that my mother raised me, when she was single and when she married the man I call dad, the best way she knew how. She had the limited resources of being a child herself and the task of raising a child must have been frightening and daunting.
She had to work to support us and then try to make a life for herself. Doing all of this and still living in that same small town, that takes strength and courage and for all of this I give her thanks.
She has never told me much about my biological father, never discussed their relationship and what happened between them. As an adult now, I finally understand that that is how it should be. That relationship and that experience is hers. If I were to have ever have had a relationship with that man it was my responsibility not hers. I have felt over the years that there was unfinished business for my mother with my father. What ever that business is it is hers.
I have felt some of her pain in the last couple of years as we have become estranged somewhat. An incident where I had come upon some information about my father and told her, her reaction surprised and hurt me. The feeling I got from her was how dare I interfere in her business, in her past. My reaction was if she still hurts that much and dislikes or hates him that bad then how must she feel about me. I am a constant reminder of him and of their relationship. Does she dislike or hate me? I didn't know.
I did not know, not in my heart, not in my head. My mother is not a particularly affectionate and huggy person, she keeps her distance and as a child I interpreted this as she doesn't like me. I am not saying she never told me but in my own memory I can never remember her telling me she loved me or hugging me, but she must have. There are pictures of her holding me, hugging me and loving me.
As an adult now and knowing what I know about relationships and people perhaps it is time I grew up and faced the facts. My mother loves me, she cares about me and my family, we are special to her. I need to understand her and the dynamics of her own family and how it was with them. I know she did the best that she could for me with what resources she had. I know she loves me.
So this is a short note to the woman who gave birth to me and raised me and loved me and still does. Mom I love you and want to thank you for all the things you have done for me. I know it must have been hard and that I was not an easy child to raise. Forgive me for the pain that I have caused and for the lack of understanding. You are and always will be one of my favorite people. Thank you from the deepest depths of my soul and know that I cherish you and love you for being the girl with enough courage to love and keep me.
