My mom has been gone for almost 4 years. She died relatively young at the age of 78.
I wish she were still alive today so I could tell her "NOW I get it!"
As was common in the 1950s, my mom did not work. She stayed at home with us while my dad worked.
She cooked, cleaned, shopped, did laundry, paid bills, and drove us around. But the thing I loved most is that she was always there for me while I was growing up.
I thought my mom's whole purpose was to be my mom. That's how she made me feel. And I loved it.
When I was a teenager, my mother and father began to go out more often on the weekends. My mother loved to look pretty and dress up in nice clothes and my father was proud to be with her. They would go to the lounge at the Ramada Inn and listen to someone play and sing songs from their era. They had lots of fun and made lots of friends.
Then it happened. My mom became a singer.
It began with just a few songs, but progressed to where she was singing and entertaining much of the night. She had always loved to look pretty, but now that she was in the spotlight, she began buying a lot of fancy dresses.
Frankly, I didn't get it. I admit it - I WAS EMBARRASSED.
This wasn't my mother!
My brother and sisters and I would go to the Ramada sometimes on Saturday night and listen to her sing and meet all of her new friends. They were all from the "older" retired generation whose kids were grown.
THEY WERE HAVING A LOT OF FUN AND JOKING AND LAUGHING. I didn't like it much.
This wasn't my mother!
My father was very proud of my mom and enthusiastically supported her dress-buying habit. What was he doing?
This whole new life of theirs continued for many years until my mother's long-term smoking habit caught up with her. She developed breathing problems (COPD) and had to be on oxygen 24/7. Her singing career was over. I knew she was sad.
This is a rare picture of my mother with her oxygen tubes. She usually took the oxygen off for pictures.
Less than a year later, my mom noticed a growth on her neck. She told me about it the day this photo was taken. It was the last picture I have with my mom. She really didn't look this good in reality. I knew how important it was to her to be pretty, so I fixed her up a bit with photoshop before I sent it to her.
Within 2 months from the time this picture was taken, my mom was on a ventilator on enough morphine to keep her comfortable. I wondered if she knew who I was. She died a few months later.
I have been thinking lately that
I am now about the same age my mother was when she began her singing career.
After attempting to juggle motherhood and a job, I discovered I could not be the mom I wanted to be while working. So I quit work before Annie was born. I have never regretted it.
But now I am faced with Adam and Kerry away at college and Annie a sophomore in high school. I have always LOVED photography and so I am spending lots of time learning about f-stops, exposures, off-camera flash, photoshop, etc. It is SO EXCITING! I can definitely see myself doing more and more as my mothering duties continue to subside.
I can't help but compare myself to my mother. She had always loved to sing and be pretty. She chose to do the things she loved after her children didn't need her so much anymore. She needed to have SOMETHING ELSE.
NOW I get it! I REALLY get it. I thought I got it years ago, but I really wasn't capable of truly understanding until I came to the same time in my life.
I wish she had never been a smoker.
I wish she was here to see my children all grown up.
I wish I could tell her how sorry I am.
I am so sorry that I was embarrassed by her new passion.
I am so sorry that I didn't fully support her new passion.
I wish I could tell her how PROUD of her I am now. Now that I really understand. Now that I get it.
