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Sunday, May 8, 2011

Sunday Prayer

My mother wasn't someone who raised and protected me so much as someone I had to overcome, survive and endure.  She was someone who, if I had to describe her and I knew no one was listening, I would describe as awful and dangerous.

I know I will be nicer to everyone, forever, every chance I get, I told myself over and over again when I was growing up.

I know I will do my best to not be like her and I will do my best to forgive myself for not belonging---for being afraid of so many different things.

So on Mother's Day I say a prayer and a wish for myself and for my mother for falling so short of The Goal: The Love Between Mother and Child.  I say a prayer and a wish that, in the big scheme of things, that our unhealing will be absorbed into all the rest of the walking wounded, the confused and hurting others who are trying, valiantly, to make their way even though they feel incomplete and oh-so tender.

Even though the rest of the world writes poems and songs and stories about how purely mothers love their children.  I am talking about those people who have a hard time understanding those poems and songs and stories.

I say a wish and a prayer for the moving forward and the knowing that I and We and She and They will continue to pry our damaged hearts open and reach our arms toward the trees and the sky and we will forage our way toward endless knowledge and this will start us on our journey of discovery and longing and it will be because of the trauma that we will be driven forward and we will have the deepest knowing that we will all be okay.

Yours In Terminal Uniqueness,
Thelma Thinks-a-Lot


The Zadgew said...

Oh how I feel you sister. Your Mother's Day is my Father's Day. Thanks for putting our unique feelings into beautiful words.

Frank's Corner said...

So well spoken. I could resonate with your experience. Thank you.

PJ said...

Thank God you spoke your truth. Mine was cold and rejecting, my father was awful and mean. Mother's Day and Father's Day are two of the most awful days of the year for me. Picking out cards make all 4 siblings ill.

Raising my daughter is what healed me of most of the grief.

May all who were injured as much as nurtured find a little extra love this month and next.

Thanks, Cupcake.

Meg at the Members Lounge said...

Beautifully put. I have a middle sibling from HELL that makes Satan look like Spanky from Our Gang. I get it.

Joann Mannix said...

Cupcake. Yes.

Your words are so beautiful especially to those of us left a bit broken by mothers who didn't do exactly that.

I spent an eternity at the card store, trying to find a memento to give to my mother. The talk of love and that special bond, I just couldn't bring myself to buy that kind of card. I finally found something bland, spiked with humor, to mask the painful truth that my mothering skills, my love for my children was borne from only knowing what I didn't ever want to be to my babies. And that, was my mother.

Beautiful, beautiful post, Cupcake.