Yes, I’m the first to admit that she drove me batty much of the time during her last three years here on this mortal coil, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t miss her like crazy now that she’s singing with the choir invisible.
It doesn’t even mean that at the time she was driving me crazy that I didn’t realize that one day I was going to miss her very, very much.
When I was a younger woman, I sympathized and empathized with other women’s rants about their mothers. I’d wonder to myself, “Why exactly are mothers such pains in the ass?”
Now, when I read someone ranting on about their mother, and how she’s driving them CRAZY, I just feel sad and wistful.
How does that song go? “You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.”?
Just call me Chloe of the 10,000 Regrets.
And now that the tables have turned? How do I feel now that I’m the mother who is totes cray cray in my children’s stories?
Um. Not so funny.
Pay back is a total bitch. Or, as my mother used to say:
I must confess that I didn’t miss my mother very much the first year after she died. I was so relieved that her suffering was over that it didn’t occur to me to miss her.
But come this January when my life went off the tracks?
I missed my mommy very, very much. All I wanted in the entire world was to talk to her. She would have made me laugh.
My mother had the wickedest sense of humor, and she would have found a way to spin the story in such a way that I would have laughed and laughed. And once you see the humor, in even the darkest pit, somehow it just isn’t so dark anymore.
As it was, I cried and cried. And strained to hear in the silence what I imagined she was trying to say to me from the great beyond.
I heard nothing.
My mommy was always very proud of me. One of her more annoying traits was to stop people on the street–complete strangers(!)–and tell them how spectacular I am.
It was embarrassing.
I’d roll my eyes, and say, “Mo-om!”
But today I wouldn’t be embarrassed to show my mother this:
Look Ma! I’m a writer.
It was almost exactly one year ago that I stepped out and claimed, “I AM a writer.” And it is beyond sort of nice to have somebody (Hell, maybe a couple of somebodies!) agree with me.
So today, I want to give a shout-out to my cyber-mentor, Kristen Lamb. Kristen doesn’t know me from Adam, but when I reached out to her she was simply just nice to me. And she gave me some damned good advice.
Her book, Are you there blog? It’s me, Writer, was instrumental in teaching me about social media, and helping me grow myself up as a writer.
I also want to thank you, my loyal friends and readers, for reading me. You don’t know what it means to me to have this Room of My Own.
If you’re up there listening, just for today you have my permission to stop everyone you meet in heaven and tell them, “Have you heard about my daughter, Chloe? She’s a spectacular writer. Look! She’s the newest Comic Relief Writer for Aiming Low.”
Love you, Mom.