[MUSIC PLAYING] My name is Kathryn Slattery, and I’m a contributing editor at “Guideposts” and the author of “Lost and Found, One Daughter’s Story of Amazing Grace.”
Mother’s Day will soon be here, and as I’m sure many of you know, when you have lost someone you love, holidays can be very difficult. Since my mom passed away three years ago, Mother’s Day has been the hardest holiday for me. Maybe this is because everywhere I look, it seems like all I can see are reminders of my loss.
For the last 12 years of her life, my mother lived here in this in-law apartment attached to our house. We saw each other every day. Although I must confess that when she first moved in, I wasn’t so sure it was going to work out. This is because for as long as I can remember, prickly was the best word to describe our relationship.
When I was a little girl, I remember thinking how mom and I were like too negatively polarized magnets, like the little plastic apple and orange stuck on our refrigerator door, fighting against an invisible force that threatened to push us apart. I loved my mother, but we were different in so many ways. What, I worried, will it be like with her living here so close by? What if it doesn’t work out?
From the start, mom was fiercely independent, outgoing, and she quickly established her own circle of friends. But over time, she developed severe age-related health problems, including blindness from macular degeneration, until it reached the point where she could no longer drive, or read, or play cards, or recognize faces.
I read somewhere once that courage is not about being fearless but about moving forward despite being afraid. My mother, in the positive way she dealt with her blindness, is probably the most courageous person I have ever known. And here’s the thing. Had I not been given the opportunity to observe her closely day in and day out, right here in this apartment as she confronted the challenges and losses associated with aging, especially blindness, I never would have fully appreciated her optimism, strength, and courage. I only hope when I grow older that I can be so brave.
Just the other day, I overheard our adult daughter describe the years that my mother lived with us as three generations of women living together. I’d never thought of it that way before. Our daughter, Katie, and our son, Brink, were my mother’s only two grandchildren, and she loved them very much. Because she lived so close by, she was a constant presence in their lives. And following their grandmother’s death at age 90, they too experienced the acute grief of losing a loved one.
The good news is that they were also able to witness firsthand a woman who faced growing old with incredible optimism and courage. In this intergenerational sense, my mother was a wonderful role model, not only for her two grandchildren, but for us all.
Looking back, it’s hard to believe that when mom first moved into this apartment I worried about it not working out. As it turned out, having mom live next door to us for the last 12 years of her life was a beautiful and totally unexpected gift. This is not something to be sad about. This is something to celebrate.
So on this Mother’s Day, I am going to try to stop thinking about what I’ve lost and think instead about what I’ve found. I’m going to stop looking down and start looking up. Thanks, mom. Happy Mother’s Day.
