mother love

oh boy. this is gonna be a tough one to write. but i can't really write a bunch of fluffy fun right now when my heart is so heavy.

so, deep breath. let's go.

first of all, i am an only child. i have never much liked this status but there was not much i could do. when i was 7, i gave my parents an ultimatum. i said that i either wanted a brother or sister, or i wanted a dog. and within a week's time, i had a dachshund named trixie.

my parents were older when they had me. older and very well-behaved, now that i think of it. very in control. very "leave it to beaver." for many years, i lived in this bubble. this assumption that life was predictable and calm and safe. and then in high school, i began to like people who were....different. my friend cindy's dad, for example, sold pot out of a giant garbage bag in their home. this was certainly different. i was friends with the school "bad boy" who would jump his bike off the shacks every morning, and end up in the vice principal's office by 10 a.m. daily. i was friends with the tortured artists. it was just much more interesting.

and in college, i hit the motherload. a treasure trove of insanity. i reveled in it. i bathed in it. i met people who dug deep and didn't stop, even when it got ugly, or uncomfortable, or hilariously ridiculous. these people....freaked my parents out just a little. my mother prayed. a lot. my father thought i was sowing wild oats, and always gave me more freedom to do so than i ever expected. i have a feeling me and my dad could have been friends, and hung out around campfires. we didn't much hit it off as father and daughter, but i do think we would have made great friends.

but my mother. oh, my sweet mother. my father once told me that there were two people in this world who thought i could do no wrong, that i was just about perfect. and those two were my grandfather, "pa-paw," who always called me (and correctly so) "miss hollywood," and my mother. because anything i did wrong, she could explain away. and there were periods when she explained away a lot.

my mother is sick. sicker than i have ever seen her, holed up as i write this in a hospital bed. she is weak and she is fragile. and i have dreaded this day since my bubble first burst. the bubble i lived in where everything was taken care of, no bad things ever touched me, and where i could always get a milkshake and a grilled cheese anytime i asked.

my mother takes care of me, and now my family, like nothing you have ever seen. she brings food, she doubles the kids allowance, she sees dust on my stairs and brings all her equipment over. she befriends my friends, my neighbors, anyone who needs a hand up. she is the center of her large family, the one who everyone calls when they are worried about their Marine son, or trying to pass law school, or struggling with cancer. she is a peacemaker. she is a rock. she is one tough cookie. and right now, for the first time ever in her life, she is knocked down.

i have a girlfriend who tells me i am spoiled. spoiled by my mother. and it makes me mad, because to me i am just lucky. i hit the jackpot of all mothers. but spoiled? i do not ask for it. i do not expect it. i have no idea why i, of all people, got chosen to be her daughter. but i can tell you this. in the last 72 hours or so, i have cried and apologized to her profusely for every wrong/bad/shitty thing i have ever done, while she very calmly tells me that no, i am wrong, i never did anything to apologize for. so i am left thinking that either she is just very delusional or that she just has so much love in her heart that she sees through all the crap that people -- i -- say and do.

up until now, i always thought i would feel like an orphan when something did happen to my mother. when i lost her. or thought i was going to lose her. and truly, i will say, losing a parent is something that no matter how many people surround you in your life, you go through it alone. it is one of life's darkest walks.

but i have felt rallied around, and lifted up, by my family. by my friends. and it surprises me, this outpouring of love. i have put myself into hyperdrive. just do the task at hand and deal with it, get it done. but then i get a phone call, or an email, and i break down. again. because she is so loved. and evidently, a little of her has rubbed off on me. i can feel it.

on the drive to the hospital, she is in her bathrobe and not all here. i am calm, and trying to push back tears, at what this willingness to finally go to a hospital must mean. but that is a whole other story. her and hospitals. her and doctors.

momma, i say. i have not called her that in years. and suddenly i am a little girl again. momma, i love you.

she's very weak and slow to respond. i love you too, honey.

we drive on. i repeat it again. just to hear her respond to me. i want to memorize that voice, those words, these moments.

momma. i love you.

and i'm so sorry for all the shit i ever put you through. all the times i spoke harshly. the times i didn't call. the times i fell short. lost my cool. wasn't interested. couldn't be bothered. was not the girl you raised me to be. i am sorry for all that. and more.

she is not interested in the apologies. it's a waste of precious time. so i go back to what i really want to say. she doesn't squeeze my hand back. but she's still here. she is still here.

momma, i love you. so, so much.

and she knows. she always knew.