My family didn't have tons of money. Going shopping with my mom, unless it was for groceries, was a fairly rare event. Once a year before school started we'd generally get some new clothes and school supplies. During the year if we desperately needed new clothes and the budget allowed it, we'd go to get that item. That's probably why this memory stands out. She'd picked me up from school and I told her what I wanted for my birthday was a portable CD player and a CD--the time machine soundtrack (thanks Spencer). I didn't know if I'd get it or not. Sometimes there was money for things. Sometimes there wasn't. But mom tried to get us what we wanted for our birthdays if she could.
On the way home, spur of the moment, mom decided we'd stop by best buy (I think--it's been a "few" years) and see what we could find. My mom not only purchased the portable CD player, she bought me the new Charlotte Church Christmas CD. We'd listened to a sample and were both impressed. I told my mom that it was ok, I'd just get the soundtrack. She bought me the CD anyway. I know we didn't have that much money. That means buying me that extra CD meant she was pulling from the budget somewhere else. At that age I didn't really appreciate it. Today I do.
Later in the day I was listening to music while transferring notes--something I don't have to think while doing and it gives me a break from studying. The song "Unwell" by Matchbox 20 came on. My mom had heard it once and she liked the line in the chorus "I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell". She never could get the melody right, but while I was in high school it wasn't uncommon for her to throw that in her mix of songs she'd randomly sing.
A little bit later "The Climb" by Miley Cyrus came on. Again I thought of my mom. That fall, even before I knew she was sick, I'd been applying that song to my life. I was going through a depression cycle and getting things done was incredibly difficult. Then mom was diagnosed with cancer. The song took on new meaning for me. For the first month and a half I was the primary caregiver for my mom.. I'd take her to her appointments, clean out her throw up buckets, and talk with her. While I have many tender memories from that time, it was also one of the most difficult times of my life. That song was a reminder that I could get through the tough parts, and the tough parts were the good parts. As hellish as it was watching my mom go through that, I wouldn't change being there for anything. My "climb" gave me a friendship with my mom I wouldn't have had otherwise.
Today, the person I want to compliment the most isn't here anymore--at least not physically. My mother was a beautiful, kind, loving woman who tried her very best to put her kids first. She was not a perfect woman, but she did the best she could and I know she loved us very much. She loved me, not just as one of her children; she loved me for who I am, her Cynthia Jean. I miss her calling me Cynthia. No one does, and it doesn't really bug me that no one else does. I just miss her saying it.
I miss my mom oh so much tonight. I want to look her in the face and tell her so many things. So I'm going to end this blog with what I would tell my mom if I could. (yes, I get the whole spirit thing, but it's different).
"Mom, thank you for everything. Thank you for teaching me it is ok to be myself, that I don't have to be what other people want me to be. Thank you for believing in my dreams, or at least supporting me in them even if you didn't think they were going to last. Thank you for the letters you wrote while I was in Germany that kept me close to home. Thank you for the Sunday phone calls. I miss those so much. You were the center of the family wheel. You kept us connected even when us kids weren't connecting with each other directly. We're still trying to figure out how to keep things that connected. You gave me a passion for music, my talents as a writer, and my sense of understanding that there are those who need our service, even when we don't have much to give.
You are a beautiful woman when it comes to physical beauty. I don't know any other 56 year old who looks as good as you did before the cancer. You didn't even need makeup to pull it off. It taught me that I can just be me, that I don't have to hide myself behind a mask in order to shine. But your true beauty came from your soul. I wish I had the faith you do! I hope to someday. No matter what came your way, your beliefs remained unshaken. You prized education and learning, something I'm trying to follow. You were patient and understanding when it came to people's problems. I remember one time venting to you about a friend and you turned it around on me. It made me soooo mad! Now I realize it taught me there is always another side. The other person always is going to view things differently, and it is rarely only one persons fault.
Frankly, you taught me how to be me. You know how they say "I don't know where I'd be without you!"? Well the reality is I don't not only know where I'd be without you, I don't know WHO I'd be without you. I am you in so many ways that I would be missing so much of myself if you hadn't been part of my life that I wouldn't recognize myself at all.
Thank you for everything. I wish I'd told you this sooner. I wish I'd told you this every day from the time I was a little kid. I adore you. I always have, I always will. I miss you more than words can say. These paragraphs are inadequate, but they're the best I can do. I love you so much. Thank you for giving me a legacy, not just a history.
Love you're little Cynthia Jean whose all grown up now (kind of)"
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please be respectful of others' opinions.