My Mother's Daughter
It's not a daily thing. Days pass and I don't even give her a thought. Then a cousin sends some old pictures and I spend a bit of time missing her. My girlfriend, when I show her the pics my cousin sent, comments on how much I look like my mom. Maybe that's because with my hair longer and shaggy like this (Mom in her 40s and 50s tended to get the same wingy sides as I do when my hair is this length), I do look a lot like her. So much that I see her every time I look in the mirror. I always knew it would happen. It means my mom is around. I guess I'm lucky that way. I get to miss her less.
Still there are times...moments...when I'm taken completely by surprise...when suddenly I miss her. I remember the first time. I was walking up the main paint aisle at work, just doing my normal thing in the middle of a normal workday. It was February, I'm sure of. Mom had been gone maybe six weeks. I hadn't spent even one moment missing her. I thought I'd come to terms with losing her and I was good, solid even. Then out of nowhere, I wanted to tell my mom about my new girlfriend.....and realized I couldn't. "Dammit, Mom," I recall thinking when I realized talking to her was impossible, "You would absolutely LOVE her. Why did you have to die before I found a really, really amazing woman??" Anyway, that day passed. I sucked away the tears I felt creeping in and got back to work.
It's happened a couple times since for the same exact reason - "Mom, if you were still here, you would love her sooooo much more than you love me!!" Seriously. She would, she actually would, and she would tell me. Then if I called her to say something had gone awry, she would implore me - IMPLORE ME - not to screw this one up. Mom may thought I needed to be independent and forgo all attachments (except to her fur grandchildren), but above all she wanted me to be happy, happier than she was. And I think she knew better than I did that one day, I'd find the right woman (Hate to tell you, Mom, but it took you dying nearly alone for me to realize that I don't want to do the rest of my life alone like you did. There is so much more out there).
This past week, I had another experience, the most powerful yet. I was working at the paint desk last Friday afternoon (I'm a paint associate at The World's Largest Home Improvement Retailer). The way my store is set up (They are almost all a little different), the paint department is situated across from the customer Service Desk within in view of the front door. It's an ideal location - no one has to look hard to find Paint and I love being right where all the action is. Friday afternoon I glanced over to the front door and noticed a woman approaching Miss Patty, our greeter. The woman shuffled when she walked, like maybe she'd had a bad hip or a bad knee or both, and stood a little hunched over. What made me gasp, though, was her hair - it was coiffed the same as my mom's and was the same white gray color. I did a double then triple take. With a mask on - her glasses resting just above it - she looked and moved exactly like my mom. I looked away then looked back What was my mom doing..... no wait. It can't be her. Tears rushed to my eyes. I blinked them back; they would weird out the kids I work with. I watched the woman with wonder as she talked to Miss Patty. I could almost hear her laugh and see her smile, even though I couldn't see much behind the mask nor hear because I was too far away.
I'd been going through a bit of a bumpy patch and truly thought my mom was there to see me, make me feel better, or give me hell for not calling more often. She wasn't. It was merely a specter, a woman my mom's age who looked a lot like her shopping for something home improvement-y. Or maybe it was the universe reminding me that my mom is never very far away. I honestly don't know what I believe.
I do know that more than ever I take an extra second in the mirror and bemoan the sad state of my hair a little less. My eyes are my mom's. My hair is my mom's. I am truly my mother's daughter. My happiness, though, is my own...just the way she would want it.
Still there are times...moments...when I'm taken completely by surprise...when suddenly I miss her. I remember the first time. I was walking up the main paint aisle at work, just doing my normal thing in the middle of a normal workday. It was February, I'm sure of. Mom had been gone maybe six weeks. I hadn't spent even one moment missing her. I thought I'd come to terms with losing her and I was good, solid even. Then out of nowhere, I wanted to tell my mom about my new girlfriend.....and realized I couldn't. "Dammit, Mom," I recall thinking when I realized talking to her was impossible, "You would absolutely LOVE her. Why did you have to die before I found a really, really amazing woman??" Anyway, that day passed. I sucked away the tears I felt creeping in and got back to work.
It's happened a couple times since for the same exact reason - "Mom, if you were still here, you would love her sooooo much more than you love me!!" Seriously. She would, she actually would, and she would tell me. Then if I called her to say something had gone awry, she would implore me - IMPLORE ME - not to screw this one up. Mom may thought I needed to be independent and forgo all attachments (except to her fur grandchildren), but above all she wanted me to be happy, happier than she was. And I think she knew better than I did that one day, I'd find the right woman (Hate to tell you, Mom, but it took you dying nearly alone for me to realize that I don't want to do the rest of my life alone like you did. There is so much more out there).
This past week, I had another experience, the most powerful yet. I was working at the paint desk last Friday afternoon (I'm a paint associate at The World's Largest Home Improvement Retailer). The way my store is set up (They are almost all a little different), the paint department is situated across from the customer Service Desk within in view of the front door. It's an ideal location - no one has to look hard to find Paint and I love being right where all the action is. Friday afternoon I glanced over to the front door and noticed a woman approaching Miss Patty, our greeter. The woman shuffled when she walked, like maybe she'd had a bad hip or a bad knee or both, and stood a little hunched over. What made me gasp, though, was her hair - it was coiffed the same as my mom's and was the same white gray color. I did a double then triple take. With a mask on - her glasses resting just above it - she looked and moved exactly like my mom. I looked away then looked back What was my mom doing..... no wait. It can't be her. Tears rushed to my eyes. I blinked them back; they would weird out the kids I work with. I watched the woman with wonder as she talked to Miss Patty. I could almost hear her laugh and see her smile, even though I couldn't see much behind the mask nor hear because I was too far away.
I'd been going through a bit of a bumpy patch and truly thought my mom was there to see me, make me feel better, or give me hell for not calling more often. She wasn't. It was merely a specter, a woman my mom's age who looked a lot like her shopping for something home improvement-y. Or maybe it was the universe reminding me that my mom is never very far away. I honestly don't know what I believe.
I do know that more than ever I take an extra second in the mirror and bemoan the sad state of my hair a little less. My eyes are my mom's. My hair is my mom's. I am truly my mother's daughter. My happiness, though, is my own...just the way she would want it.
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