one single mother. one spririted preschooler. oy — what a life.
This extraordinarily beautiful post by Karen reminded me of my own mother’s passing. She died alone, in the night, sometime between April 11 and April 12, 1996, so I never know when to observe the anniversary of her death. Every year I think I will just pick a day and stick to it, but I never do.
Has it really been 12 years?
I didn’t really forget this year, but for some reason I did not think to write about her until I read Karen’s post. For the first several years, I wrote poems to mark the anniversary of her death. I avoided the Hallmark section of the drugstore during the dreaded Mother’s Day season. I winced when people talked about their living mothers, either positively or negatively, or even just in neutral passing.
Now her death is a simple fact: not something to avoid any longer, and not something to dwell on.
But yet, there is inside of me a painful longing: it takes all sorts of forms. Sometimes it is sexual or just the need to be tightly held. Sometimes it is in my addictions and compulsions: the craving for chocolate or a cigarette. Sometimes it is simply beyond words — a nameless stabbing in my heart. Deep down, I think, it is the longing for Mother. It is the longing for the Oneness of the womb. Maybe that is why I like to take hot baths so much. Perhaps it reminds me of what it felt like to be in utero, nourished and nurtured and breathed for.
I practice meditation in part so I can remember that Oneness. It is from that remembrance that maybe I can help Sami recall his Oneness with me and all creation. I don’t think I can save him from the primordial longing. Perhaps that is the human condition. The First Noble Truth. But what I do know is that my mother was the only living person I knew who practiced unconditional love. Having had such an experience of love, I walk in this world sure of my essential goodness…even though I have done many “bad” (unskillful) things. Deep down, I know that I am lovable and worthy of love. I want this for Sami, too.
What a tremendous gift she gave. Such love is the ultimate gift: it enriches both the giver and the receiver. All I want to do is practice, practice, practice, so I can can develop a heart of the same quality: a heart full of love that demands nothing, and accepts all, vast as the ocean and sky.
Welcome to this blog - my chronicle of the illuminating, character-building path of single parenthood. I'm making this up as I go along. My life is my practice, and my five year-old son is my greatest teacher.
Chris Austin-Lane
April 16th, 2008 at 3:04 am
There is nothing like being loved by ones mother. It makes much suffering tolerable.
–Chris
Karen
April 16th, 2008 at 6:20 pm
Be yourself and take good care of your family, she said.
StephLove
April 16th, 2008 at 8:44 pm
My mother lost her mother over twenty years ago. I think she’s still grieving. It must be one of the hardest losses, other than losing a child.
My condolences.