Like Mother Like Daughter

Exploring a Lagoon 2012

When Mom was about my age she came to Canada for a Christmas visit. Someone in my husband's family commented that Mom reminded them of me, her daughter. 

Mom replied, "Thank you for the compliment." 

I have always remembered her gracious response because I never felt I could be as good as she was. 

My mother was a wonderful person. Grandma said Mom was an optimistic and organized child who always had her school books packed in the evening for the next day. She was very intelligent and a born leader who demonstrated exceptional resilience. If she made a mistake she started again without excuses and was not one to give up. She was a school teacher, but like the women of her generation, she became a full-time homemaker after I was born. She cooked and canned, made jams and pickled food for our family of seven. She sewed our clothes, curtains, and furniture slipcovers, and entertained guests easily. Our home was always orderly. By the time I was 16, we had moved at least ten times to various locations in South Africa and Canada as Mom and Dad combined paid work with lay ministry in the church. Mom was a hard act to follow and I never felt able to fill her shoes as a much shyer and less confident person by nature. All of her life and even after her death in 2013, Mom has been a significant force in the lives of her children. 

Mom was my age in 1999 which was not very long ago. She had her first cancer surgery the year before. I started to recognize her vulnerabilities and the family dynamics gradually transitioned over the next few years as she required care from her children. It was very difficult for Mom to accept the limitations of aging and illness. She did not want to slow down and felt it important to present a strong faith in the face of her increasing physical weakness. She pushed herself to the point of physical and emotional injury with her stubbornness. Her personality strengths became detrimental to herself. 

Like mother...

I sometimes see my mother in me. 

I had a lovely visit with Mom and Dad in Mexico in January 2012, the year before she died. She was reasonably well after completing chemotherapy, but illness had taken a toll on her physical body. I took many family pictures when we did a day trip to the Pacific Ocean. I designed a photo book and had a copy printed for myself and for Mom. She did not like the book at all! She saw a frail old lady, hair growing in after chemo, her hands aged and her spine humped. 

Mom with her dog, Inge 2012

I saw my strong, beautiful, loving mother, whose body and hands had nurtured our physical and emotional needs for decades. I knew her days were short, and her pictures were very special.

As children mature, their wish for autonomy from their parents can cause conflict. This is a normal part of growing up and marks an important emotional milestone. As a parent, it can be difficult to let go of my control over my daughters and free them from being an extension of me. But shared experiences, learned patterns of behaviour, as well as physical and emotional strengths and weaknesses, are passed from generation to generation whether we recognize it or not. The roots of the family tree run deep. 

The paradox is that in some ways, I am still separating from my mother but in other ways, I am becoming more like her as I age. A few years ago, someone at work called me "the most stoic person they had ever met". I didn't have to think hard to realize where that trait came from. (The comment was quite derogatory at the time)

What is the lesson from these musings? I want to acknowledge my inherited strengths and recognize areas of weakness. 

Can I remain young in my thinking and confidently explore and accept new ideas?

Can I gracefully embrace the changes aging is bringing to my physical body? 

Can I free my children to pursue their own lives, make their own mistakes, and separate from me, even if I do not agree with all their choices?

Can I accept the help I may need in the future with gratitude and without giving criticism because things are not done the way I would have done them?

Can I remain a loving and supportive force in my family and circle of influence?

Can I remove the emotional façades that prevent me from honestly expressing my needs and fears when appropriate? Can I be honest with myself?

Can my faith in God be a strength and not a hindrance as I accept whatever the future may bring without conditions and behind-the-scenes manipulation?

I was blessed to have the mother I had with her strengths and her weaknesses, her faith and her doubts, her joy in living, as well as the sorrows which she tried to hide from others. I no longer have to seek her approval, even though it took a long time to recognize that fact.  

She loved well and in the end, that is what counts the most. I can honour her memory best by showing that kind of love in return.