"First of all, that posting was absolutely gorgeous. It made me cry! The torment you expressed over loving and hating your mother at the same time was palpable; I feel the same way, but underneath it all, I love my mother as much as you do yours. After reading that, I am inspired to let my mom know how much she means to me.
A particular paragraph that you wrote caused me to think a great deal about how we judge our mothers:
'...we turned twenty- and twenty-five and fell in love and began to cobble together careers and we saw for the first time the sacrifices their mothers had made for their families, the ways in which their selves had been subsumed into the dreams of the men they loved, how they must have seen their lives disappearing, how they had no chance to be good mothers when they couldn’t even be themselves. We saw these things because we had begun in earnest our own battles for ourselves and we could feel that at some point you just can’t give anymore to others what you can’t give to yourself.'
After reading this, I realized that I am still too young to understand the troubles my mom has had to endure as a stay-at-home mom. As you said, her identity has gotten sucked up in the life of the successful man she loves--my father--and in those of her four children. But who is my mother, really? Do I really know, and have I given her the time and understanding she deserves?
Starting as soon as possible, I am going to ask my mother to share with me a side of herself that perhaps even she no longer recognizes."
