The eleventh anniversary of my mother’s death was two weeks ago. Years back my brother planned a get together for he and I to commemorate the tenth. However, by the time it arrived our lives had changed so much: both married, having moved to states across the country from one another, my illness… The plan was no longer feasible when the time came.
I never really wanted to do the “commemorate the tenth” thing anyway.
My brother is an even deeper thinker than I and much more sentimental. I’m sure he knew I wouldn’t want to commemorate, and that is a big part of the reason he planned it. He likes to hold on to detailed memories and relive them in conversation. I am more connected to feelings about a time and enjoy quietly pondering the “why’s”.
As I pondered today, I affirmed to myself that I believe I understand my mother now. I understand the choice and strength to be alone rather than afraid, used and frustrated with a man. I understand the belief that your children are the most significant reflection of your life. I understand being suspicious of law enforcement and mainstream media.
Our relationship was strained at times and at other times she was my confidante and cheerleader. I’ve changed so much in these years. I’d have to allow her to go through change and growth also. Perhaps our mother/daughter coded language still wouldn’t allow us to express our similarities of thought and circumstance. That would be too bad.
It is very comforting to believe I am unraveling the silk threads of my mother’s veil. It is comforting, even if I’m wrong.