Monday, January 10, 2011
This is going to be a long week.
Isn't it surreal to see a toddler this comfortable with modern technology? I mean seriously, we didn't even have brick phones or beepers until I was a teenager. How far we've come.
This is going to be a long week, I think. Gary is out of town. Jack, who has been a ball of adorableness for the past six months has now been possessed by toddler demons and is spinning his head around and spitting pea soup while he screams for whatever he wants. It's peachy. The only thing that saves him from floating down the river is that he will stop and turn around and blow a kiss and say, "I yuv you much too Mommy."
Saturday I went to the funeral of a mother of teenagers who passed away from breast cancer. Her oldest daughter is 19 and now gets to assume the mantle of defacto matriarch. My mother also went to the funeral, but separately from me, so it wasn't until we were finished that I went down the hall of the church and ran into my mother sobbing with full force--my mother who typically bottles her emotions-- and weeping with someone we sort of know. As soon as my mom saw me, she looked horrified and quickly sucked it in, dried her tears and told me she was okay. I walked her to her car, and we engaged in light conversation about what we would eat for dinner Sunday night. I am thinking to myself during this, "Geesh, we are so screwed up."
Why was my mom crying? It could be because she lost her mother at nineteen as well. It could be because she has had cancer, including breast cancer three times, barely surviving each time. All these things and more, I'm sure. But my mom has this deep down belief in her core that she must not burden her children with anything sad or her true feelings. So it's left me feeling like I don't know huge chunks of her life, of her true self. But as hurt as it used to make me, I have had a realization of sorts. Your family is your family. Part of the journey is figuring out how to love them for who they are and accept them with all of their bumps and bruises. This is who my Mom is. Due to things she experienced in her childhood, she is unable to share these sorts of things, and it is just the way it is.
I am also hoping she will not start reading my blog.
Anyway, before I go, I want to make sure I pay tribute to Major Richard "Dick" Winters, of the 101st airborne division in WW2. He died on the second of January, and he is another person in this world that I've never met but had a great impact on me. I have read both his biography and autobiography, and I have nothing but the greatest respect and admiration for him. Major Winters is the focus of the HBO miniseries "Band of Brothers," and he was portrayed by Damian Lewis, who did a fabulous job. If you've never seen it before--what are you waiting for!?--rush right out to your library or Netflix and check it out.
And a link to the Washington Post article.