Eileen. Do You Know The Many Life Lessons You've Left For Me?

I'm certain if my mother were here today, she'd say, "Oh Kathleen! Take that horrible picture off your web page." That is, if she had the terminology down for all of the technology we suffer from these days.

I agree with you Mom, it's a horrible picture of you. But somehow, I love it. You look serious and sad and pensive and, well, mad. Which is not how I spent my life thinking about you. I knew you as the fun loving, easy smiling, loving mother. But let's not confuse loving with demonstrative. No, that wasn't you. But I am glad to know that you were able to throw a hug and a kiss at the girls now and again. I'll bet there were days when you were wishing we weren't such a huggy kind of family. It makes me smile to think of your discomfort with all things demonstrative. Not in a bad way. It's a fond memory of a woman who was born well before her time and yet, somehow, struggled to move into the way society behaved. You held all of us to high standards of behavior, but never higher than what you held yourself too. I always admired that about you.

This week I'm struggling with a let down. It's not such a big deal, what the let down is about. But being let down is a big deal. It sort of smacked me upside the head and put me in a tailspin for a moment or two. Pulled me up short and made me stop and think about ... I dunno. Just made me think.

You know, when I would go to you with a problem, you didn't offer solutions. You offered an ear. A listening ear. You didn't interrupt. You listened. And when I was done with my rant, my rave, my fussing, fuming and whining, you would ask, "Well, how do you feel about it?" Sometimes I would think, "What?! I just told you!" But I wouldn't say that out loud. Oh no. I knew what you wanted me to do was to think. Not emote. Emotions were fine with you. As long as we used our heads. And we didn't make you hug. "The Good Lord gave you a brain. Use it."

I value my integrity and my reputation and I guard them well. You taught me that.
I stand on my own two feet and stand up for what I believe in. You taught me that.
I love unconditionally and I accept love in return. You taught me that.
I accept people for who they are and do my best not to judge the behavior of others. You taught me that. And I'm working on the not judging part. Still.
I've learned to forgive. And I've discovered that's almost an art form. You taught me that.
You taught me to find the humor in every situation, because as you said, "There is humor in everything. Sometimes you have to look a little harder to find it, but it's there."

So I've thought about the let down and I've thought about what it's about. And I've decided, that whatever the reason for the let down, I'm not going to hold it against them. And I'm not going to judge them.

As a matter of fact, I'm going to forgive them.

Then, I'm going to stand up, by myself (although I like safety in numbers) if I have to, for what I believe in. I'm going to stand up with the courage of my convictions, knowing that they are right for me.
You taught me that too.

Were I able to sit with you right now, I would take your hand in mine and hold on gently. I would look you in the eye and I would say, "Thank you, Mom, thank you." I've know doubt, you'd know what for.