Today is the 12th anniversary of the day Mom died.
While I was grateful for the email, June 14th is a date I can’t easily forget. From the minute I was born, I had a terrible fear of my parents dying and leaving me alone. I worried about it all the time. I should have been on a psychiatrist’s couch for many years, but I was afraid to face my fears.
My father died when I was 31, he 61. I had a melt down. I couldn’t accept his death and drove myself so crazy that I contracted essential hypertension. I still have it.
I am a carbon copy of my mother. The only difference is that I had the benefit of watching the way she conducted her life and then I decided to make some changes. I am pretty sure that is the way we are all supposed to mature.
I watch the relationship of many parents with their adult children and I truly believe my folks gave my brother and I a gift many others don’t know how to provide, They had great respect for our judgement and never tried to control us for their benefit. I’m not saying that I didn’t fight like cats and dogs with my mother, but it was always about small, stupid stuff.
My parents felt my brother and I long surpassed them in life achievements (whatever that means) so who were they to advise us. Allowing us to follow our dreams was a great blessing,
The truth is that we really didn’t surpass them. We just had more opportunities. I find myself sometimes pretending I am one of them and making decisions based on what they stood for.
It’s difficult to believe that my mother is gone 12 years. It’s also difficult to believe that my next birthday is a big one. I better grow up soon.