Who are we? When broken down to our basic elements, do we devolve into our base actions? Do we allow our baser actions to define us? It is a question that might be worth answering.
My mother is in ICU tonight, fighting for her life against the cancer that has returned after 14 years. She is a woman of dreams and hopes, and to basic instincts, to those who don’t know her, are nothing more than the basic instincts of survival that we all share. But, to me, she is so much more than that. She is everything I’ve avoided being and wanted to be at the same time. She is my mother.
My mother is a brilliant woman. Her mind is incomparable. Yet, her choices have committed her to her station in life: a housewife. The woman could reason circles around me and anyone who chose to do battle with her. She is smarter than any woman I know. She is my mother.
I spoke with my father today who will forever plague his messages with disclaimers like, “I certainly wish her the best, but my message shouldn’t take focus from her husband,” and the like. He is thoughtful and naive at the same time. I believe that any homage to anyone is welcome. Without his connection to my mother, I would never have my sister Mandy. I cannot imagine a life without her. Talk about wit and intelligence! Besides, I believe that anyone who shared a period of time with my mother has a right to chime in and pay his/her respects. I believe that she would like that. She is, after all, my mother.
I spoke with her sister tonight. It was a good conversation. I have done much damage to my family in the past, but my aunt has reasoned that while we cannot regain the past, we can move forward and approach something maybe more meaningful. And maybe more meant-to-be.
I have a strange family, but I can honestly say, at one point, we were ideal. I think that fantasy dies with the grandparents, and that is a shame. They were our rock. They were pillars of our family, as well as pillars of the community. They left the rest of us reaching for the stars, where their examples were painted in permanence. To our family, they ARE eternal.
I think the beginnings of regrowth are planted. News of my mother’s illness has broken through the rest of the chip that resided on my shoulders. I need my family. I need those I hurt. I love them. If there is one thing I know about family, I know they have to love me back. It’s in the rules.
No matter what family I am talking about, I am blessed. My mountain-man brother Josh told me last night how proud he was of me that I came out. From him, that was extremely inspiring. I’d still try to kill him and his family on the Middle-Fork in Montana :). That’s how I roll. Next time, it will be me in a bikini. But, you don’t know my family. I think Josh might stare. 🙂
I leave this post with thoughts of my mother. She is the only woman on the planet who understands me, supports me, and loves me as the bundle of skin that popped out of her. She is everything to me.
She is my mother.