In doing a “fun” list of 25 Random Things About Me… I wrote: “Am completely taken aback by the fact that after 37 years, I suddenly and profoundly miss my mother.”I am still stunned… why now?
My mother died when I was 7 from a very rare form of bladder cancer. My parents had divorced when I was about 2 and I think I’d only seen my father once or twice before her death. Some of my memories of those early years are completely forgotten, some very vague, and still others are so vivid it’s as if they happened yesterday. I’m told that once things got more advanced and treatment more intense, Mom and I packed up and moved in with my Nana (Mom’s mom). Wonderfully, circumstances were such that my Aunt (Mom’s sister) and cousins were in a position to move in as well, due to my Uncle serving in Vietnam. All seven of us “girls” lived together for a couple of years until her death. Such sweet precious days! Loads of memories...
My mom was my world… we were best buddies… did everything together. She was so vibrant and young and strong and worked so hard to make a great life of me, for us. Of course I never knew of her struggles until I was an adult… but I’m amazed at the job she did and I’m humbled by the love she so lavishly poured on me every single day. I was safe. I was secure. I never had a moments upset. If I was afraid, she was there to hold me and sing to me and make me laugh… if I was sick, she was there. She made me feel special. She was my hero and my cheerleader. I know that not one day ever passed without me knowing, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, that I was utterly and completely loved. I have yet to experience that kind of love since. (Maybe that’s why I want to be married - thinking the love of a husband would put me back and keep me in that same sweet love and security... interesting.)
I have recently been reminded that I never really mourned the loss of my Mom.
Through her illness, no matter how bad her day or night – I would begin each day with a hug and kiss from her sending me off to school and then the instant I arrived home I was off to Mom’s room to share my day, to snuggle as best we could, to read to her. Her door was always open for me, always. So when, a couple of weeks before she died, her door remained closed and I was not able to visit with her, I knew something was up. I remember vividly standing in front of that closed door, staring at a lopsided neon red heart sticker I had cut out for her and she had Nana put on her door so she could always see it when the door was open… I stood in front of her door in the darkened hallway, staring at that heart – and was overcome with the profound knowledge that she was going away… I would never see her again and was now on my own.
A couple weeks later, Uncle Ike returned from Vietnam, and on Oct 10, 1972, I was not surprised when he came into my cousins & my room and told us that Mom had gone to heaven to be with Jesus. I didn’t cry… and to be honest, I have never cried… till now. I was sad. I withdrew. I would sit in her room for hours looking out over the pool and Sarasota Bay watching the boats or watching Mr. Rogers on TV. The adults couldn’t always coax me from the room, nor could my cousins, for play or swimming… I just needed to sit in her room quietly.
She was buried in Ohio where my Grampa was buried… and shortly after that, my dad was there. Of course at the time I had no idea, but poor dad… he too was serving in Vietnam at the time, but he did the honorable thing as my only living parent, and moved me to Hawaii to live with him. He was just back from war… he didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know what to do with a little girl... much less one who had just lost her mother. I know without doubt that he did his very best… however, I don’t recall ever talking about mom with him until just a few years ago.
A couple of years later Dad remarried a young beautiful, intelligent, strong woman – a widow with two boys of her own. I truly think he married Beverly more for me – so that I would have a mom – than he did for himself. My dad, I believe is the epitome of “a loner.” He’s the life of the party and everyone’s best friend… but with his most intimate relationships he’s limited. Beverly was a lot of things… a great mom, a friend, a teacher, but, unfortunately – at that time – abusive. She was jealous of me… of my Mom… of the relationship I had with my Aunt/Uncle/Nana & cousins. (whom I was able to see only a handful of times over the next 9+ years until I moved in with them my senior year in HS) Beverly often belittled and insulted my mother – writing nasty comments about her on the backs of my pictures of her… telling me intimate things about my mother & father’s relationship that were grossly inappropriate. Ripping to shreds the only doll I had left that my Mom had given me – Mrs. Beasley.
So early on I learned to never talk about her. To remove the pictures and tuck them away for safe keeping. My mother has been tucked away in my heart ever since.
Recently, and so gently and tenderly, God has brought someone back into my life whose time and attention is bringing about a happiness and sense of love I only had with my Mom. Through this precious person, God is revealing Himself in a way I could never quite allow myself to grasp… holding me and whispering… “See, Laurie, I DO love you that much.” I am humbled. I am undone.
Tears are finally able to come now… and I miss my Mom so much. She was so special. Yet, the hole forged by that profound sense of loss is now able to be filled with Christ’s love for me and the new relationship of this dear friend. I’m not sure my heart can take it… It is overwhelming – and knowing me, I will, at times, fight it. I’ve been comfortable keeping that part of my heart closed for many years now… But I feel freer than I have in a long long time.
Oh the sweet and unadulterated joy… of just letting go and basking in pure love. Amazing Love. Amazing Mercy. Amazing Grace.
