It is one week past Mother’s Day, and according to Mom I just gave her the best present yet.
I have been having a hard week. Every day has been a lesson in pain, betrayal, and guilt. The few friends to whom I talk about the details of this all tell me that while I might not be blameless in my problems, my culpability is far less than I have allowed myself to be guilted into believing. I was talking to Mom about this a few minutes ago and about how bad I felt. She told me “stop it, Owen! Don’t be like Granma. Don’t take the world onto your shoulders.”
I was surprised and told her that I always thought that I had gotten that tendency from her not from Granma. She chuckled at that and said that she saw many of her mistakes reflected in me and that I had picked up many of her bad habits. I found myself telling her something that I had never told her before.
I am proud of her. There is nobody that I would rather be like. She is strong, smart, patient, kind (and although I did not say this last adjective to her) beautiful. Every day I do my best to be the kind of person that she would want me to be.
I’ve never liked making my mother cry, but for some reason I did not mind as much this time.