Birthday Blessings!

One of the trickiest of human connections that I’ve ever experienced, or watched in other’s lives, both up close and from a distance, is surely the one between mothers and daughters. After three miscarriages and the six years in between my older Sister’s birth and my own, my Mother always relayed what a joy and blessing my arrival had been; that admission was most often accompanied by her recollection of the day I entered the world. As luck would have it, she and one of her dearest friends, Jeananne, happened to be enjoying a late lunch at “The Whaling Bar” in my hometown’s iconic “La Valencia Hotel.” Sitting in one of the richly hued, leather booths across from the bar in that storied, dark room, my Mom’s water broke and hours later, I arrived at what was the original Scripps Hospital in downtown La Jolla. Despite the interesting luncheon location and accompanying story, or the six years of loss and anguish that Mom claimed preceded my appearance, I didn’t always feel a super, intense emotional connection with my Mother for many years.

My last blog entry, and the paragraph immediately above this, could have you feeling a little confused, but don’t feel badly; much of the time when I talk about, or refer to these kinds of sensitive subjects, it’s all a “tad” confusing for me too. While I both miss and mourned my Mother following her passing, ours was a complicated mix of dynamics, fierce emotion, interspersed with periods of great misunderstanding, as well as an unspoken bond that I still feel and know exists to this day. To that end, I’m going “off-script” a bit from what I was writing (and will save that for later, in a selection of thoughts and continuance of my last blog post, “The Lyin’s Den”) and am, instead, going to go in a slightly different direction. There were many, many, many moments, memories and experiences, in between the bit of disconnect I felt with my Mom that I mentioned above, to the sweet story I’m about to share, and from then, on to where I am today…but for now, let’s stay here in this minute for a bit and see if I can even begin to successfully approach expressing the sentiment this experience provided?

The picture above was taken late in the summer after high school graduation, when Mom and George dropped me off at St. Mary’s College in Northern California for the start of my Freshman year. We had driven two vehicles in which to haul my array of clothing, pertinent possessions etc.. and also so that I could keep my car, and Mom and George would drive back home in George’s truck once I was “settled, situated, and in place for my new adventure.” I can, unequivocally, say they got me situated as well as was humanly possible, but I NEVER ever felt really settled there! I guess it should have come as no big shock that there were to be a few “transfers” in my future. For now, though, we’ll stay with St. Mary’s in Moraga, where I was miserable and hated every minute. Well almost every minute? There were a couple cute dates, and there was also some fun to be had at nearby Berkeley, which absolutely added a few high points. When October 9th, (aka, my birthday) appeared on the calendar, the day was off to an unimpressive start until I left school and returned to the off-campus living arrangement that we had secured while awaiting a dorm opportunity to open up on campus. It was a mess of my own making; I had only applied to one school, and by the time I got my letter of acceptance and then responded, the on campus housing was full. After a bit of searching and a referral from the St. Mary’s guidance counselor, I found a room and bathroom for rent in the home of a single mom and her two kids close to campus. The home was fine, and the woman and her children seemed nice enough? Also I had been encouraged by the school housing office, which stated that several people usually move housing arrangements around quite a bit within the first semester. Upon hearing that, I thought it would be a decent place to land until another situation could present itself. More than a month and a half later, however, no openings had materialized, there was nothing on the horizon, and I was really NOT digging my interim plan, which was contributing to a very general sense of malaise. Anyways, back to October 9th… I turned my car off the tree-lined boulevard and into the driveway of Salle Bayley’s (my landlord/host) home following my abbreviated schedule of classes that day. Resting alongside the home’s front door entry was a medium sized box, wrapped in brown mailing paper and bearing my Mom’s easily recognizable script on the address label. I felt the comforting feeling of “home” as soon as I stooped down to pick up the package and unlock the front door. The second gift presented itself, as I entered the house and discovered a note which, thankfully, relayed that I was the only one that would be home for the rest of the day. The note left for me on the side table immediately inside the front door communicated that Salle, her son, Grant and the daughter (who’s name I can never remember) would be gone until later in the evening, with a postscript adding “Happy B-Day,” with a scribbled, “smiley face” drawing at the bottom of the paper. Hooray, the day was looking up! I took the package into my room, sat in the chair at my desk and cut open the end of the package. Another box appeared, but this one was beautifully wrapped and had a small card affixed underneath the perfectly tied bow. A small bundle of mail revealed itself as well, which included the weekly SYV Newspaper, an envelope from Ma and Pa, a card with Easy’s distinctive writing, together with a couple of magazines too. There were also some messages on my phone machine, all wishing me a Happy Birthday…one from Viv, another from my Dad, as well as a message from Ma and Pa. Hearing those familiar voices on the phone warmed my heart as I opened the cards, read Easy’s sweet note, smiled when I read Ma and Pa’s message (as well as appreciating the check that was enclosed), and then proceeded to open Mom’s present. The main card had revealed a $100 bill, sent with lots of hugs and best wishes for a great day from both Mom and George, but the smaller card that was tucked right under the bow contained a simple message from, only, my Mom saying, “her wishes were in the gift itself.” I untied the bow, unwrapped the outer layer of paper, lifted the top half of the box to find more tissue paper inside, which enveloped two thick pieces of cardboard, protecting the deep, Raspberry colored, 10’ x 12’ wooden frame, housing a piece of glass and it’s message contained within. The actual message was “cross-stitched” on a fabric background in white, with another slightly paler shade of the Raspberry color saying…

“The day feels empty when you are away.

That all other matters are fine, does not matter.

So, I know my life needs you.”

With love always,

Mom

That one gift must have been like a key unlocking a door that was acting as a “barrier” between my Mom, myself and our relationship, one which never seemed quite as special as it had become right then. A vulnerability was revealed, one that I would try to honor and protect from that moment on.

We would have some challenging times in between, but my 25th year brought another special birthday remembrance when my Mom treated both Viv and me to a New York City holiday to celebrate in a very, one-of-a-kind, special way. We lived it up and visited all the treasured places which held such fond memories and storied tales from my Mom’s own past. One such icon and a fixture of my Mom and Grandparent’s memories, an original New York speakeasy called, Bill’s Gay Nineties was one of the first spots we visited, and true to all that I had heard, the famed piano bar did not disappoint. There were a number of dinners at “21” (still my favorite) many trips through Tiffany’s, Bergdorfs, Mom’s treasured Pierre Deux, as well as every other shop and stop one could hope to make…truly a trip to remember, forever!

When my 29th birthday arrived, my Mom and I had already, and would further, forge a bond I never imagined possible, but that year and the birth of my first born established a relationship that could never be broken; bent maybe, but not broken and the next post in this succession of blog entries will help explain. In the meantime, Mom helped me understand the depth of emotion passed from mothers to daughters.

Two decades later, with a second child, my son, added to the tapestry of my life, with more family marriages, additional generational branches born, dozens of homes, a nasty divorce, 100’s of thousands of dollars in debt and legal fees, pain, 25 lbs (+/_) lost, gained, and more family drama than I could ever fathom, and once again, Mom gifted me an irreplaceable treasure, when I finally purchased and she visited for the first time, “the house that Misshy built!” (That expression is a #banksism (my great nephew), which I look forward to sharing in the future). Between all of the women in my family, it was always Ma, my Mom and me who loved to needlepoint; Mom took it, as she did most things, to the next and an incomparable level of detail and perfection, but each and every gift we shared with one another of our handiwork was special.

*“God bless every corner of this house.” Indeed! Ma, Mom, and Me…and someday, more.*

Just as this amazing piece graced every home of my Mom’s, for as long as I can remember, until that fateful day in the Fall of 2010, when she gifted it to me as a housewarming/rite of passage gift, it has now graced the walls, as it will continue to do for as long as I live, of each home I’ve been blessed to create. There will come a day when it will hang in my daughter’s home too, and I know she will treasure it, and the sentiment it carries, just as my Mom did, and I do still.

Mom spent many wonderful times with us…my kids, son-in-law, our friends and more family in that same home, until one day when that was no longer possible. That change never really “fractured” the feelings we shared, or felt for each other. The emotion was always there…understood, but rather than demonstrated daily, we just held the other in our heart, and I know that will continue always.

With that in mind, I wish you love and a very Happy Birthday in heaven Mom! This might have been the last birthday gift I ever gave you, but I’m beyond grateful it was returned to me months later; I hold it and you in my heart and memory always!

Triggers & The Truth

The Lyin’s Den