Comments on: Mothers. Gotta love ‘em

By: ruth pennebaker

ruth pennebaker — Mon, 18 May 2009 17:15:38 +0000

Just lovely, Tessa, and so haunting.

Thank you, Ruth. Unlike you, I did not experience the disintegration of her mind at first hand. I cannot begin to imagine how hard it is for you, with your father.

By: Midlife Slices

Midlife Slices — Mon, 18 May 2009 13:55:11 +0000

I believe it’s a cruel twist of fate to finally come to understand our Mother’s demons only after we’ve spent a lifetime being scarred by their actions. But aren’t you thankful it made you a totally different kind of mother to your own? I know I am and sometimes I remember to silently give her credit for doing something right.

You nailed that one right on the head, MLS. Everything I am as a mother is the opposite of what I learned from my own mother.

By: Kate Lord Brown

Kate Lord Brown — Sun, 17 May 2009 18:37:39 +0000

Beautiful. Hugs from another non-favourite. As J Rivers said there never was a female comic who was a pretty girl – I reckon there isn’t a female writer out there who was the ‘favourite’ x

You’re right! Favourites live in a rarefied atmosphere that needs no writing out!

By: The Poet Laura-eate

The Poet Laura-eate — Fri, 15 May 2009 21:40:40 +0000

What extraordinary closure from a woman who had otherwise lost her wits by then. I’m sure that sentence alone made your trip worthwhile, and was more valued by you for being said to you, rather than any of your siblings.
Tragic how people can become imprisoned by old patterns, almost inherited like that. Thank goodness you had the intelligence to realise it was nothing personal really, though I’m sure you had your moments of hurt and anger when younger.
I hae never been close to my parents but accept that’s because of who they are and when I think about it, neither of them were close to their parents either. It really doesn’t traumatise me though and seems more of an issue for my mother.

I know exactly what you mean about a lack of closeness. You seem quite sanguine about it, Laura, but you have to admit that it’s not natural that, the very first time in my life that I heard the words “I love you” they came from some guy who was trying to get me into bed at the time!

By: Smart Mouth Broad

Smart Mouth Broad — Fri, 15 May 2009 01:41:22 +0000

I’m going to jump on the wagon and say also; beautifully written. How wonderful that she remembered you at the last. I know how much that meant. During Lucy’s illness, I was (for her) a lot of people. It was always a relief and a joy when she recognized me as ME.
Hugs!

You had a mother who was beyond pearls, SMB. I envy you, especially for the fact that, after she died, you had no missed opportunities to regret, as I do. Hugs!

By: Erin

Erin — Thu, 14 May 2009 19:39:00 +0000

That was beautifully written. Thank you for sharing.

Thank you, Erin. And thanks for coming by.

By: marylou

marylou — Thu, 14 May 2009 12:34:22 +0000

Oh Tessa…I knew some of this already, but your final paragraph just grabbed me by the throat…as I am sure it must have for you at the time…As independent as we all proclaim to be, we are all constantly seeking love and approval from ourselves and others…but especially from our mothers…beautifully rendered.

Thank you, Marylou. Birthday and Mother’s Day on the same day—it does a number on you!

By: Jan

Jan — Thu, 14 May 2009 12:26:41 +0000

That was beautifully written. My brother was always my mother's favorite; I guess as the only son out of the four of us, that could be expected. My sisters and I never had a problem with it growing up; it wasn't until we were grown that the real disparity in how she treated us began. Mom and I weren't on good terms when she died and it's been one of the hardest things for me to come to grips with the fact that it doesn't matter if she'd approve of me or my life now - I do, and that's all that matters. I will be eternally grateful that she and I buried our differences. They were still always there, but we managed to skate over them, usually. But, to the day she died, she retained the ability to make me see everything through a red mist with just one careless word. Philip Larkin had it right: "They fuck you up, your mum and dad."

By: wisewebwoman

wisewebwoman — Thu, 14 May 2009 03:56:32 +0000

Oh Tessa!
So poignant, so beautifully written! How we all desperately want to be loved by those that brung us. We gain our strength when we realize we can only learn to love ourselves. It took me years and years to let go of my father saying to me one time that he loved his younger daughter, my sister, best as she had the attributes our dead mother had.
{{{Hugs}}}
XO
WWW

Thanks, Mary. You put it so well, this wanting to be loved. I don’t know if it was the times we lived in, or my parents were particularly restrained, but neither of them ever said “I love you” to any of us. It was just not in their makeup to do so. Which damaged them as much as it damaged me and my siblings.