I need to get into a place where I can write wherever I'm sitting. I took a book up to Schlossberg today and sat and read for about an hour and a half, and then I gingerly walked down the mountain. Because I walked 28,000+ steps yesterday, which amounted to over 12.50 miles, I have a little blister on one toe to show for it, so I gingerly walked down the mountain after climbing it this morning. I was going to take the funicular up, as I usually do, but again I was greeted by many small children, so I decided since I needed the steps anyway, I'd just keep walking. I found the other side of the mountain and started climbing, and wow, what a workout. So sitting at the top was also to catch my breath and stop sweating in addition to reading. On the way up I saw one salamander, and on the way down I saw two.
The book I decided to take up with me was Motherless Mothers, written by Hope Edelman. I'd read Motherless Daughters before, but now that I am a mother, I decided to give this a try. One thing I learned that I hadn't really realized before was that grief is fluid. I thought that I would grieve the loss of my mother, and every so often there would be a ping here or there, but considering it's 20 years out, I figured I was "over it". According to Edelman, you're never over it, and becoming a mother can bring forth all those feelings of loss. While reading the first part of the book that focuses on becoming pregnant and labor and delivery, I reminisced to my own pregnancy and delivery. I suppose since my mom has been gone so long, I kinda came to terms with the fact that she'd never know my family or be around to help, so I didn't really grieve the lack of knowledge or care I didn't have. But I do feel sadness every so often, knowing she would have loved Luca and Wiley and she missed out on them. And I feel sadness that I don't have a mom to call when I'm upset and need some love from someone who's known me the longest. I had a small breakdown a few weeks ago where I called up my aunt, who has become somewhat a surrogate. Here in Graz, I feel appreciative of the wanderlust she and my father gave me. Every summer, we'd head somewhere for a week or two. Sometimes it was Lake Okoboji in Iowa, sometimes it was Utah and Arizona, other times it was North Carolina, and once it was even Hawaii. Thanks to them, I have an urge to see lots of the world, though it makes me sad that she never got to Europe, and I don't get to call her and say, "You wouldn't believe the gelato they have over here!"
For a long time, I didn't want to be a mother. I consider myself damaged goods. I had a mother, she died, and then I didn't have a mother. Then I didn't have a father. That's my life arc. I had grandparents, thankfully, that took me in for a couple of years. A lot of people don't have anyone after their parents are gone. I was worried that because my mom died when I was young, the same might happen to me. Or that I'd be a bad mom because I had a flawed mom. And sometimes, self-help books make me feel bad, like I'm not doing a good job, and sometimes I feel that with this book. I'm not sure that I really am completely healed from that trauma 20 years ago while reading the book, and now I worry what I'm doing to Luca. Am I overly cautious because I'm scared I'll lose him? Yes. Am I worried that I'll die young and leave him scarred as well? Yes. Do I want to run home to him right now, scoop him up and never let him go? Yes, yes, yes. But I'm also learning that becoming a mother has a way of healing the trauma. I give Luca the things I never had: attention to detail. He likes a snack and milk when he's picked up from preschool, and the milk has to be just a little bit warm or he doesn't like it. I try to give him my undivided attention, which I'm not very good at yet. I realized my mom was a bit aimless...she flitted from this job to that, doing whatever, and my guess is because her first priority was taking care of me and my sister. It dawned on me that I'm doing the same thing as my mother, and that really kinda drives me nuts. I have a shoe half-in, half-out of the world. One shoe is in, taking care of Luca, and the other is out, working two part-time jobs to help support the family. How will Luca view that when he's older? Will he see a woman who worked odds and ends so she had the flexibility a family demands, or will he see someone who didn't have a career and seems a bit lazy? I wouldn't have characterized my mom as lazy. She did all the cleaning and the cooking. And later in life, she found work she loved with the mentally handicapped. But in those early years, I've found our stories have somewhat aligned, and that frightens me. I don't want to appear aimless.
I also have not really grieved the loss of my father all those years ago. It was a different way of leaving. He couldn't function, literally, after my mother's death. He needed someone to take care of him, so he went searching for that someone. I realized how unhealthy he was, so I left and moved in with my grandparents, and after that, he and I never spoke again, and he died in maybe 2006. I don't remember. I don't give him enough credit. I remember mostly only bad things, but I do understand how hard he worked for the family, and now that I'm older, I see that the demons he had overpowered him. My only real memory of him when he was nice was letting me have his Hostess cherry pie. Mom got them for his lunch, but when I eyed one, he let me have it. He usually let me have his sweets, like Swiss Cake Rolls (which I eventually didn't care for, preferring Hostess Ho-Ho's), and he made great eggs and bacon. It's hard to remember the good when there was so much bad. I'm worried I am still very damaged from that.
And then a new thought flits into my head. We're all going to die, so what does it matter? Do no harm, and life will be fine, and when it ends, that's that. I will give my best to my family and enjoy the journey.
No comments:
Post a Comment