Here is a sad lady who tried her best to keep it together.
She grew up a middle child in a strict Catholic German family in Indiana. Born as the Depression turned into a World War. Her older sister became a nun. Several of her aunts were nuns.
Instead of pursuing her interests in music, she became a nun. It was a sad decision that affected the rest of her adulthood.
She left the nunnery and moved to Chicago. She got involved in her local parish in Edgewater and met her husband while teaching CCD.
Two lonely people united under their security blanket called the Catholic Church. They divorced after ten years of marriage with an only child to raise.
Like I said, she tried her best to hold things together.
Our moms are meant to be held up on a pedestal. After the Blessed Virgin Mary comes our mom. For my Jewish Brothers and Sisters, think Esther and Ruth.
Once we learn to wash the dirt off our knees and learn to make our own hot dogs, moms start fading from that prestigious stand in our lives.
Once we figure out mom being tired all the time means she was hungover again, we realize that lady that brought us into the world is human.
That lady that is twenty-five to thirty-five years older than us was going through the same shit show that we ended up living.
The same medical bills, the same pressure at work, the same aches and pains and the same flat tire on the Dan Ryan.
Underneath is the struggle with mental health. The battles with regret. The agony of not living to expectation. Throw motherhood on top and the perfect storm for chaos occurs.
There sure as hell isn't a manual for life. There isn’t a playbook for parenting either. Our moms raised us as best as they could with every ounce of love they had.
Add to the stress of worrying about their babies. Moms never stop worrying about their babies.
From the time they ride their bikes to the park and climb trees with their friends. To the times they sneak off to a kegger in the forest preserves. To the time they leave for adulthood. Moms never stop worrying about their babies.
During my mom’s last few weeks of life, she was more worried about my failing marriage and my oldest son’s recent diagnosis of autism. She was worried about me more than her own health.
She died worrying about me.
All moms worry about their children up until their final breath. Then they go to heaven and worry about us, but heaven is closer than our parents’ house growing up.
We mourn our mothers after they leave us. We shouldn’t though. They are with us forever. Becoming an adult son or daughter changes the perspective we have about our mothers.
They tried the best they could, and they never stopped worrying about their children. At one point they might fall off that pedestal. It is our job to place them back on it.
Our mothers placed the first stone in our foundation. Whatever strength we have started with them.
I love you Ma.
Happy Mother's Day to all my mom friends. You are heroes and never forget that.... good days and bad.
