People are always telling me that my mother is here watching over me, but that doesn't help the fact that I still miss her very much. I miss talking to her. Moms was also my best friend, more like a sister after I went off to college, and I really miss having her around to talk to. Somedays I miss having her around because she knew me, really knew me. She understood the nuances of my voice, how I phrase my words, when I really am upset, when I'm joking, how I go about trying to find answers and understand things... she just knew me, and I was getting to know her. I knew when she was upset and I could read her expressions and body language to see how she had taken something I'd just said. I miss that.
I really miss her opinions as well. Moms always knew what to say. I'm always hearing that I'm a know-it-all but I still subscribe to one of Moms' life lessons, it went something like, someone who's truly smart knows that they know nothing at all. Or something like that. Moms knew that when I really wanted to help, I'd start firing off suggestions a mile a minute, hoping to ease the other peron's pain, or just give them a bunch of options to either choose from, or dissect to make their own option. Nowadays, I'm always hearing that I'm telling people what to do, and that I act too empowered, as if I always have the perfect answer. But Moms understood that my knee-jerk suggestion/advice giving response was because I like helping people and I also hate being helpless. Being helpless is one of my greatest fears, along with being rejected or abandoned. The thought of not having any options paralyzes me. That's why I cringe whenever I hear someone say, "Oh, I don't have any choice."
Moms also understood that I saw the world in black or white. She always tried to get me to see the shades of grey, but I guess I'm like my father: everything can be simplified. Kind of like a mathematical equation. Take my approach to life's problems. There are always going to be problems, at least the way I see it, so you can either let your problems stump you or deal. 'Dealing' isn't necessarily instantaneous, and Moms knew that I saw it that way. I mean, I still haven't 'dealt' with the fact that she's really gone and not coming back. And yes, there was a time, a long time, where I let my grief 'stump' me, but I know that death is something we all have to face eventually, so I have to keep dealing, day by day, and each time when I miss her as much as I do now.
Oh, for one of her life lessons! The one that will always stay with me is: The Universe is perfect and everything is as it should be. That came along with, be careful what you ask for and how you phrase what you ask for. (If you're lost, you can read The Game of Life and How to Play It, I'm so happy Moms bought me one). Moms was also really big on "Those who know better do better", which is why I've been able to get a handle on my temper. I'm sure most people don't see the progress I've made because let's face it, I still lose my temper sometimes, and no one ever remembers the good anyway. When things get heated, most people can only remember the bad. I try to remember the good. Moms knew that was just how I am, and that it didn't have anything to do with me trying to be better than anyone else. I mean, when I was younger I used to say random stuff like, "Mommy, I think if people spent more time looking up at the clouds they'd be happier, 'cause aren't the clouds pretty? God's great!" Yes, that was me.
I guess I just miss being automatically being understood without having to explain. No, actually that's unfair. I miss not being misunderstood even more. I miss that alot. These days no matter how hard I try, or how long I go on explaining myself, I'm always saying or doing something wrong, or not understanding, or not helping and supporting. I feel like such a failure. And then I hear that I have no reason to be sad, and that I complain too much, or that I don't care enough, or sometimes that's too much.
I think I miss my mother as well because when she was alive things were simpler. I guess I'm trying to be my own Peter Pan. At least that's how I was when she'd just died. Now, I really just miss talking to her, and hearing her talk back.
