MothersandDaughters

where is my daughter?

My mother was 98 when she died, almost 99. I was 57. She died two months ago. My mother was 41 years older than I am and I'm 40 years older than my daughte. My and mother had two older sons. And I have two older sons. Our families mimic each other a lot.

I worked hard at making sure my family did not pass on to my daughter the same conflicts I had with my brothers. And indeed I did not. My daughter is very able to take care of herself and to stand up to her older brothers and her brothers genuinely like her.

But now I am the one who's out in the cold. I feel so distant from her, it breaks my heart. I am in such pain over this. I am told that she will grow out of this and we will be close again. But I doubt it. We will never live together again when she goes off to college. When we have the chance to become close?

In some ways, I waited my whole life for my mother to die. She looked older, she had white hair she had a neck that wrinkled. Now my neck is starting to sag. I've worked hard all my life to try to make myself be young for my daughter because I knew what it was like to have an older mom. I'm not sure I've succeeded I've had Parkinson's diseas since my daughter was five years old. And I have osteoporosis. My daughter is very athletic and I was not. Although I was a good skier, she's only been skiing with me once since she was a teenager. She didn't like it.

My daughter likes clothes, makeup and hair. I like books,  reading, and science.For a while we were very close. A couple of years ago she told me everything. I guess I did something wrong because she tells me nothing now. She talks to her father, and that's good. Just as I'm closer to the boys, I guess it's good that he's closer to her. But I never tried to be a male role model to my sons. They went camping with their father.

 

I guess I don't know how to have fun. With my mother I had always done projects. She worked hard and I worked hard along with her. That was our sort of fun. That's not what my kids enjoy. So I do all the projects around the house. I rearrange the furniture. I paint the walls. I fix the plumbing.

 

But it's not enough. I don't cook well enough. I don't clean well enough. I don't dress well enough. We just don't seem to have much in common.

 

 

New beginnings

My mother died this June. She was 98. I was 57. The hole in my heart is off-scale. So this new blog. I first entry is dedicated to her. She had a lot of friends. People who cared about her very much. It is my privilege that she spent the last four years of her life living in assisted living center. 10 minutes from my house.

 

We had always been close. We became even closer. And as a memory  dwindled and she became more frail, she became more precious as well. I can't say how much I miss her. Often times we would buy a McDonald's hamburger and drove to a nearby reservoir. Sometimes we get out of the car, but often we just sat in a parked car. And talked.

 

We talked about the days living on our little lake. We talked about our pets that we have had over the years. We talked about old friends. And we talked about my daughter. All the hopes and dreams I have for her. The colleges she's thinking about.

 

Now that my mother is gone, I long for a closer relationship to my daughter. Other mothers have told me that they had a difficult time with the child in high school as well. And that these times would pass. We have one last year together before she goes off to school. I hope it can be a good one.

I love you mom. I love you, my daughter.