I have a very dear friend whose mother passed away last week. It has been a terribly frustrating and painful ordeal for the last two years as she has been sick. In watching and hearing about her prognosis, and her passing, it caused me to reflect on a couple of things.
First…
I never really think about men being the lovers and nurturers. It’s the women who take on that role usually, right? (ie: Tim the Tool Man Taylor or Red Foreman…the epitome of un-romantic yet have an unmistakable love for their wives) So what is it that brought your parents together? I’ll try to illustrate…
1- The other day, my husband and I were out. We stopped to get a soda at a convenience store. Since the surgery, I’m a little slow so he asks if I want him to just go in and get mine for me. I say yes, if you wouldn’t mind. He says back, “Nope. I’ll take care of ya. Always do.” And he does.
2- My friends’ mom had Lou Gehrig’s disease, so there wasn’t any getting better. After things started to become apparent, there was naturally some reminicing going on. My friend has started to think about her childhood with her mom and some of the conversations that they have had. Her dad has also mentioned some of the things going on in his head. While he has been taking care of her night and day, he has also been looking back over their past together. It is so apparent that this man has so much love for his wife!
3- My own parents who have shared a life together for 33+ years, have some similar interests, but to be honest, not very many. I had been married nearly 7 years before he began bringing her flowers for any reason (like mother’s day). Once or twice a year, my mom goes to scrapbooking crops for at least a week at a time (at a neighbor’s house, no less). During this time she eats and sleeps there. Sometimes she comments that everyone else talks to their husbands at various times (like before bed and stuff) and her husband never calls her. But at the same time she doesn’t call him.
Now, I’m not trying to make them out to be a bad couple or have less love or romance than anyone else. This is simply real life. I know my parents love each other. What’s more, I know that my dad loves my mom.
I have stood by and watched both of my grandpas out-live their wives, so I haven’t noticed very often it be the other way around. I never really put much stock in it until this last time, when the man who taught me how to ride a motorcycle lost his wife and tearfully commented that no one would ever be as good as his wife was.
It’s love. It’s not syrupy. It’s real. There’s no background music. It has ups and downs and we all express it differently, and a lot of it is protected much of the time. But it is there. It’s what brings people together in the beginning and keeps them together through mid-life crises and menopause and stupidity.
And men love. It’s not the way we romanticize it to be, but it’s there and it must be enough, because we love them right back.
Second…
Contrary to my first post about motherhood…
I have been so lucky to have tremendous mothers throughout my life. The women who I called “mom” during my childhood and adolescence, well, God bless them!
In the neighborhood that I grew up in, there were 6 girls my age and in my primary class. We had slumber parties and swimming lessons and 4-H together. We rode bikes forever and had meals at whose ever house we landed at that day. In short I had 6 moms, at least.
On the first day of seventh grade, I made a new friend and we were instantly inseparable. We spent every day together, and it is her mom who passed away last week. This woman influenced my life every day. She loved me like I was a member of the family, took me camping for weeks at a time, bandaged me up that day when dad taught me how to ride the motorcycle and I ran it straight into a tree. She bought us matching pajamas, took us to lunch, taught me how to eat crab, paid for fake nails and took us to craft fairs where I learned about all things handmade. When we got into trouble, we were in trouble with two sets of parents, each serving two consequences because it would be hell at both places for at least a while! Oh, and we deserved it! (But it was usually worth it, too!)
And over the years a few more “moms” were involved in my life. There was the mom who never came home for lunch. Except on that one day when about 5 of us had decided to sluff for the afternoon and we went to her house. Right in the middle of feasting on chips and dip and whatever else was in the fridge we saw mom pull into the driveway. There was a general “Oh, shit!” amongst us as we all scrambled into the bedroom and tried our best to blend into a wall. Well, in our haste, every single one of us had forgotten all the food on the coffee table in the middle of the livingroom! (BTW, I realized this week that this is Natasha’s house, as I now live in the neighborhood that a lot of my high school friends grew up in!!!) --Ahhh! Good times!
Now in my life I have an aunt who I have grown very close to. In a very real way, she too has become a mom to me. I find great comfort in her council and opinions. She has in-laws who are very similar to mine and as we commiserate together, we grow closer. I know that she loves me.
Let me not overlook my mom (my real mom) here. She has provided for me and protected me. She has been mom to each of those mentioned here and sometimes more. I have put her through more than her share of hell and she deserves credit for surviving it. Really she deserves a plaque or a T-shirt or something. A real “I survived Beka's Adolescence 1977-1997” tribute to faith and fortitude (aided by prozac).
I know that my mom feels the same way that I do about motherhood, and my only hope is that I don’t really remember a lot of the things that she beat herself up about. I know for a fact that parenting isn’t perfect, or easy. But I for one am so grateful to have had the moms in my life to teach me along the way.
I’ve been so lucky and so spoiled, and such a snot to not have realized it before.
