Had she survived lung cancer fifteen years ago, it would have been my mother’s eighty~ninth birthday today.
Her fierce pride and controlling nature, combined with aching vulnerability ~ which she held in check until a few large glasses of what she called ‘tonic wine’ lowered her defences ~ had a negative effect on our relationship. Particularly when I was a tormented teenager, trying to figure out my own way through a confusing world.
But having had a girl~child of my own, I’ve experienced both sides of the complex mother/daughter dynamic and long ago came to terms with the volatile nature of my Mum’s personality.
When I was younger you’d often hear me say ‘I love my mother but…’
I just wished that she’d been different. I guess she may have felt the same way about me but about five years before her untimely death we made our peace and when she was admitted to hospital I stood up as fiercely for her rights as she would have done for mine.
Today, with age; wisdom, several sessions of counselling and a great deal of self~help under my belt, I’m happy to simply say, ‘I love my mother.’
And to know, without a shadow of doubt that ~ despite her human frailties ~ she loved me. ❤️