My mother has faults. She knows it, she won’t admit to being wrong
(willingly, at least) and sometimes she makes me want to slam my head
against the wall. She knows that, too.
This isn’t about her faults though, except some of her strengths
become faults through no fault of her own. Well, mostly no fault.
Good people do good things. That’s my mother.
For as long as I can remember my mother has been the most caring and generous person I know and probably will ever know.
I don’t mean it as any disrespect towards other good people that I
know, or a put down to them. It’s just to me, my mother stands out. I
mean, she is my mother.
She gets all the blame when something doesn’t work out, and almost
never gets the praise when it does. She’s mentioned it before out of
frustration and she gets laughed at, hell, I’ve laughed too.
I’ve not given her the credit that she deserves and it’s not because I
don’t feel that she deserves it, it’s just…the way we are as a family.
It sounds like a cop-out even as I type it, but I don’t know how else to
explain it or know why it’s the way it is. We, my whole family, find it
hard to admit feelings, not just bad feelings, but good feelings. We
don’t tell the people we love that we appreciate something they’ve done
(for the most part, this isn’t an absolute statement) as fast as we are
to tell them something they’ve done wrong.
It’s as if we just expect the good things to happen and chastise when
someone messes up. It’s not fair and I’m just as guilty as anyone.
My mother more than anyone bears the brunt of this family trait. It sucks.
When my mother was caring for my grandmother when she was suffering
from Alzheimer’s disease she still managed to do whatever she needed to
do (in addition to taking care of her own mother) to keep everyone else
happy. She has never been rewarded for going out of her way to do
something that no one else was willing or able to do.
She just did it. I don’t know if I could have done what she did.
I would see her tired face, the pain, the sadness, the helplessness
and it killed me inside. I’ve never told anyone this, but I suppose now
is as good a time as any. It hurt to know that nothing I did would take
that pain away from her. I was there one time when my mother needed help
getting my grandmother out of the bathroom and into her bed. I did that
one time, just once and it’s haunted me ever since. My mother did those
things for her own mother every.single.day.
She is stronger than anyone knows, including herself.
She tries to be there for everyone, all of the time. I think she can’t even help it. She just does it.
Like I said at the beginning, my mother has her faults and she knows it, but she may not know how great of a person she is.
I don’t always show it, I don’t always say “thank you” (but I’m
getting better) or show appreciation for the things she does and the way
she is, but I do know how she is and I do always appreciate her no
matter how much her faults make me want to slam my head against a wall.
Even having to type this instead of saying it to her face is hard. I
never could have said these words to her, even though I feel them
inside. For me, personally, it’s easy to think these things, but it’s
scary and hard to say them to the person’s face even though it’s
Mommy, I appreciate you. I appreciate everything that you do for everyone, including me and if I have ever made you feel otherwise I’m sorry.
I love you.