For New Old Moms to Learn Old New Tricks
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My sisters and I had to learn on the job just how much work goes into bereavement. Suddenly we were not only grieving our mother but making gnarly decisions- flying family members from Europe, college and California, coordinating pick ups, texting husbands lunchbox menus while composing obituaries, choosing the quintessential prayer card image that perfectly sums up ‘Mom’ (sunset on beach or sunrise?), psalms, readings,…
Why does every teachable moment in my poor kid’s life begin with This Old Mom making a ginormous mistake? Either I’m not listening or listening while multi-tasking which is basically not listening or it’s impossible to understand what Grace is saying because her current stabs at English give her an accent that veers from Brooklyn to Boston to Creole- sometimes in the same word. One…
I sometimes make up autobiography titles for people. It beats actual conversation. Long ago I decided my mom’s autobiography title was, “You’ll Never Believe Who I Sat Next To On The Plane.” Mom didn’t merely befriend people, she absorbed them into her hemisphere. Most conquests were made on planes, trains, in foreign countries, grocery store lines, nail salons, theater audiences or in the ER. Mom’s…
Happiness had not come to her early in life. A thousand years of it would not have made her blasé. Her palate for all the joys of sense and intellect and spirit was fresh and unspoiled. Nothing would have been wasted on her. She liked more things and liked them more than anyone I have known. A Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis Parenting is challenging on…