From the monthly archives:
It’s not her fault. She had me when she was a teenager, and somehow, she kind of got stuck in that mode – she never had a young adulthood. She got robbed of so many things I got to have — fun high school parties, homecomings, getting into college, going off to college, a serious college boyfriend.
Graduating college, moving to NYC with no money in my pocket and being thrilled to sit on my little stoop smoking a cigarette in the east village with my three roommates, barely surviving. After sending 300 resumes, finally getting my first job in the big city. Not knowing it then, but meeting the love of my life at that first job, who is now my husband. And so my adult life officially began.
Now, living in a small town in MA, with two kids, I can’t blame my mom, really, for not reaching out, for only seeing her grandkids twice in their little lifetimes. My kids are my everything, and I can’t imagine not ever seeing them, not knowing who they’ve become, not meeting their husbands and children.
But sometimes, you can’t know what a person goes through in their own life, and what they are capable of, or not. I don’t think my Mom is truly capable of being vulnerable enough to let anyone — even US — in. She was a great mom when I was younger, when I really needed her. Maybe as I got older she didn’t quite know how to be anymore. She lives a good life, albeit a solitary one, by choice, and though it’s hard for many people to understand, I can’t help but defend her.
It does makes me sad though, and I miss her, even though she’s still there, where I grew up. And I love her, for the lessons she gave me when I was younger, that I impart to my children every day.