Always a formidable woman,
my mother never had time for weakness,
especially in me, her only daughter.
She didn't waste sympathy
or time on trivial things.
She wasn't the mother who kissed skinned knees,
or cuddled you in the night if you had a bad dream.
I never dared creep down the hall to her bed
for comfort when thunder rumbled.
At eighteen, when I broke up with
my first real boyfriend,
it was my dad who held me while I cried.
Constantly searching for an advocate,
desperate for her approval,
my mother never validated my feelings.
I always felt lacking, not good enough.
my mother never had time for weakness,
especially in me, her only daughter.
She didn't waste sympathy
or time on trivial things.
She wasn't the mother who kissed skinned knees,
or cuddled you in the night if you had a bad dream.
I never dared creep down the hall to her bed
for comfort when thunder rumbled.
At eighteen, when I broke up with
my first real boyfriend,
it was my dad who held me while I cried.
Constantly searching for an advocate,
desperate for her approval,
my mother never validated my feelings.
I always felt lacking, not good enough.
In retrospect, she made me strong
in ways I never dreamed I'd require.
Maybe she was the mother I needed
afterall.
Maybe she was the mother I needed
afterall.
2 comments:
A very familiar story. Pretty much my own, except in later years when I moved back here to help with her daily care. We finally had the time to talk with one another, and it did make a lot of difference. Needless to say, I love your poem and yes, I believe we got the mother we needed.
Elizabeth
https://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2019/04/07/lost-2/
Marianne,
My story is similar to yours and Elizabeth's. My mom was one tough cookie and I am lucky to have had her as my mom when I look back in retrospect. She taught me many useful life things.
I, also, got close to her in her latter years. And I miss her every day.
Your piece brought back a lot of memories for me.
Love,
Pamela
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