Mothers are worth remembering

I recall my friend JoAnn sharing her thoughts about retirement life. “I find myself thinking more about so many things.” Makes sense since when we were working so much of the time and taking care of children or family, our minds weren’t free to wander.

I am fascinated by the fact that now that I have time to enjoy the present moment, my mind gravitates so much toward the past. I think once we arrive at 60 and beyond, we do have a perspective that is quite different from when we were young. Some of us have come to understand our mothers were much stronger than we ever gave them credit for.

More than one friend of mine is struggling to take care of an aging parent. I resist the urge to say, “At least you can still can,” knowing that they they are fraught with making day-to-month decisions, and our current circumstances are not the same. My mother died 13 years ago.

Writer and retired judge Judy Catterton shared a poem at our monthly writers’ meeting about her mother titled, “The Red Curtains.” Her mother made curtains for her college dormitory and she had made fun of her.

Today she writes: “I didn’t see my mother fingering bolt upon bolt, spreading the fabric on her tiny Formica table. I didn’t see her late at night lying in bed with pincushion, tape measure, chalk in hand, hemming. I didn’t hear her tell her friends ‘I am helping my daughter, the college student.’”

Like my writer friend, today I do better to recognize my mother’s strengths. In my youth and even in my 40s, I looked more for weaknesses. Years ago, I published a poem about her which read, “Oh Mother, you are such a wonderful mother. Remove the clothespins from between your teeth and dance!”

My mother had six children under the age of 5 - identical twins first and then three more. She washed clothes, ironed dresses, polished patent leather shoes, made dinner and cleaned the house, and being mindful meant trying to make everyone else happy. She didn’t know how to take care of herself.

We can practice mindfulness. When our backs hurt, we can lie down on the rug. Staying in the present moment requires lots of practice, and retirement affords us this time. I can gauge my progress when I attend a yoga class. We lie completely still for 10 minutes before the teacher says, “Notice where your mind is. Now bring it back to your body. Feel your head resting comfortably on the blanket. Let go of what you plan to do next.”

Chances are this was never modeled by our parents. My mother-in-law had a weak heart but she failed to slow down until it was too late, and now we mourn the loss of time we wish we had to spend with her.

A friend of mine just returned from a caregiving visit with her mother in Florida. She had expressed anxiety to me about making the trip. So I asked her how it went, and she told me that the trip was wonderful. I asked her what happened.

“I changed my attitude and we really enjoyed each other’s company.”

My mother always told me to have a positive attitude, and she was one of the smartest people I ever knew. Happy Mother’s Day weekend!


Write to lgraff1979@gmail.com.