Mother's and Daughters

Many years ago, I wrote several essays regarding the “sandwich generation.” The topic got as far as a few lunches with an agency director about a book. Several times during my lifetime, I was ahead of the pack but did not do much with the work and watch several good best sellers make others wealthy. My focus was on the young adult trying to raise a child while being children who also had major responsibility for a parent or parents and hence became the meat in the sandwich.
I witnessed in my own life a parent who never expressed a negative view re my abilities to get out of a paper bag. I usually stepped up but often did not get the job done until “The End” sign was coming down. My Mom would have been much happier if I were not flying in the door at the last minute.
In the past year, I have watched the interaction of several mothers and daughters and have come to the conclusion it might be easier to solve world peace than resolve family conflicts. Years of a poor non-productive communication between strong women, a mother and daughter, can really heat up boundary and control issues and does not get resolved when roles are reversed and the parent becomes dependent.
In the past few months, I have been called to reconnect with an old friend. I knew her in a professional capacity for many years and have heard her talk of a daughter and other children and her view of the trauma of the relationships. Now at the end of her life, when she is a dependent and with a brain tumor, I am meeting The Daughter.
The burnt bridges are everywhere. There is the usual feeling of being alone and yet there are children. In reality, at the time of our passing, we are always alone. For most of our life we are alone. When we are the most real – honest – we are alone. For many of us, our personality or ego wants to prove we are Right. My way is the right way...to live...to engage with others... to interact. and finally, .to die.
The Mother, my friend, died this past week and last night I walked about The Daughter’s Community Church and paused before each of my friend’s paintings. They are bright and full of light and life and details- usually of nature or inanimate subjects. I would love one to have in my life as a reminder of her spirit for she succeeded as an artist far beyond her parenting skills and may well be remembered more as a character than a Rembrandt. The daughter that she spoke about so often in our group settings had called family and friends together to celebrate the life of her mother. There was a religious tone, which was not really typical of the mother and the event was in the manner of the daughter - the remembrance card and program presented with the daughter’s church family. Not all the children came for the chard from the burnt bridge runs deep. There were few family pictures to show since my friend had thrown them out as she often did with people and places when coping and going through something was harder than the cut and run. There was an air of exhaustion over the end of life process and the last minute attempts to connect. The mother had reached out and made phone calls, who know what was healed. The eldest grandson said, I am glad it is over for my parent’s sake and I was glad for everyone’s sake for there was no more painting and no more life.
I came home and watched the ice skating at the Olympics. The winning couple’s team have worked for 18 years and sacrificed a great deal for this end and event. It was a great performance but there were still a few major flaws. And that is it I said to myself, you do the best you can and hope others and particularly your children can accept your humanity and flaws for in many ways, we are still looking for the perfect mother.