The Legacy of My Other Mother

The first Mother’s Day following the death of my mom was tough. She had been such a guiding presence in my life and I felt a void understood only by those who, too, have lost their mother. I remember going over to see my mother-in-law on that Mother’s Day. My husband had flowers, and I had a card, but my heart was heavy with loss.

My mother-in-law, Marcia was a not one to linger in sadness or anything on the downside of life. Although warm in presence, she could be a bit stoic, believing the journey down a tunnel of emotional abyss didn’t really change anything. Rather, she chose to be accepting and move forward. She just did not rest in the woes of the present, even when faced with tough loss or adversity.

I remember walking into her home that Mother’s Day. There she was sitting in her favorite chair. She rose to greet us, thanked us for the flowers, and began to chatter about her family; going through the litany of what all her grandchildren were up to (even though we might have heard it all just the day before), and then talked about the new Spring flowers about to be planted in her flower boxes. I sat there nodding, but felt the ache in my heart as I thought about my own mom.

And then, my mother in law looked at me. Her eyes were a soft and beautiful fawn-like brown. She pierced her gaze into my grief saying, “Annie, you must be missing your mom.” And there it was; the gift of Marcia. Yes, I replied, feeling my composure crack. My mother-in-law met me in my sorrow, but then did what she did best. She pulled me up out of my moment of burden; inviting me to join her in the chatter of the present, where the blessings of ordinary life cloaked my grief with hope.

This was my other mother; the woman I also called “Mom.” I came to know my husband’s mother when I was just emerging into my own personhood, and had a very limited sense of self-confidence and life direction. I was just 16. In the 45 years since then, I have watched and learned from this extraordinary woman. I learned how to keep moving amidst adversity. I learned how to let go of the unimportant “stuff” of life. I learned how to choose optimism and positivity no matter what. I observed unyielding integrity and commitment to faith and family. I learned how to knit because I admired her creative masterpieces woven with yummy-feeling yarn. I learned how to accept imperfection and understand that at the end of any day, “It’s just the way it goes.”

This will be our first Mother’s Day without the matriarch of my husband’s family. Our loss is fresh, but we rest in gratitude for her long and loving life. This week is defined by funeral planning, family gathering, and collective remembering. For me, however, I carry a keen and profound sense of gratefulness. I was so fortunate to have my other mother be such an example of how to be buoyant, accepting, and generous. I truly loved her, and like so many, will miss her stalwart presence in her chair, with her knitting needles, copy of the latest historical biography, and transistor radio by her side. Yet, in true Marcia form, she has moved on. This Mother’s Day, my heart again will be fragile in composure. I really treasured my other mother and will miss so much about her unswerving and steady example of how to live. I envision her reuniting with those she lost, enjoying her Graeters raspberry chip ice cream, sharing with the angels all the extraordinary details about her grandchildren. She knew how much we loved her, but I’m quite certain she isn’t lamenting about leaving us. She is looking forward, and so must we. After all, “It is what it is.” Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I’ll trust the softness and encouragement of you will continue to reach all of us who loved you. I promise not to remain too long in my sadness. After all, Spring flowers will need to be planted.