My therapist had said that by acknowledging the reality of my mother's death- by actually accepting that she no longer existed- I would come closer to the reality of my actual existence with her. I wanted nothing to do with this deal. In it, I got the short end of the stick. Accepting that she no longer existed meant that all I had left of her was memories, and only six years of them. Memories which I really didn't think I had- simple snapshots of little events that I barely remember. I was much more interested in holding on to the imaginary mom that I had created as a kid. She was with me now, was floating around like a guardian angel, wishing me well on my first day of school, keeping me company at all times. I had no interest in removing her from my life.
But everyone around me kept suggesting that I really did need to let go, really did need to go through some process that would help me to accept her death. I reluctantly gave in and agreed to have a memorial ceremony in the zendo on the anniversary of her death.
The ceremony surprised me. I had expected it to be this big dramatic 'saying goodbye.' I thought it would be all about me finally letting go of her. But the ceremony didn't feel like that at all. Instead, I felt surrounded by others, felt loved and supported, not so all alone. This was amazing and I was grateful for it- for how it made me feel and what it taught me about myself. But I also felt like it hadn't helped me to say goodbye, that it didn't bring me any closer to accepting the reality of her death.
Then, I went shopping. Before I explain how this is important, I have to explain that there are only a couple of things that I know for sure that I actually remember about my mom (not things that people told me). They are the Marimekko fabrics throughout our house and Suzy's Zoo cards. I know for sure that we had those things and that she used them- I actually associate them with my mom. So, I love Marimekko fabrics and I like to have Suzy's Zoo things. I had received a coupon for 10% off at Crate and Barrel and they carry Marimekko fabrics. I went on the Sunday after the memorial ceremony and the strangest thing happened as I walked in the door: I felt my mom. I saw the fabric on the display bed at the entrance and I suddenly had an actual memory of my mom. I felt her walking from her bedroom to the kitchen, and I felt myself there with her. We didn't interact in this memory but I feel like I'm a kid and I feel like I'm seeing her walk by, and she looks happy.
I know, this doesn't seem very significant, but it is. I was there as a little girl. I watched her, and she was my mom. I'm not remembering this as a grown up, I'm feeling it as a six year old. I'm actually feeling a time when she and I were together. This is the first time I've ever felt this.
Later that afternoon, the picture of my mom that had been on the altar during the ceremony caught my eye. I stopped to look at it a little longer and saw that my mom had freckles, I noticed that she had a long neck, and then she kind of became three dimensional, in a flesh-and-bones kind of way. And then I got this feeling. I got this feeling of wanting to say goodbye. Not big goodbye, and not me saying goodbye as a 41 year old to a mother who hadn't existed for 35 years, this feeling was of me as a little girl, just saying goodbye. Just a regular goodbye, like she was going to the grocery store or something.
And I thought, "Oh, maybe as a 41 year old it doesn't feel right to say goodbye because I didn't know her, but as a six year old, I probably did say goodbye when she left for the grocery store. I might not know her now but I knew her then." And then I realized that we hung out together. She played with me. I've been told that she taught me how to read. And I've read in her diary that I always made her smile. So this thing, about never having a chance to say goodbye, actually is the truth. I think I probably did want to say goodbye, in the same way that you say goodbye to anyone you love. We loved each other and I was probably sad that I didn't get to say goodbye to her when she left. It's not a big monumental goodbye, it's just that she left, and I knew her, and she was gone, and, well, I don't know what happened after that. But this wanting to say goodbye is probably the reality of my experience with my mother when she left for the hospital and then didn't come back. I honestly don't remember any of this, but it makes sense that I wanted to say goodbye to her. And I guess I still do- I just don't know how I'm going to do that, or if I even can.
So my therapist was right. By letting go of the imaginary mom, I'm starting to feel my actual mom. I don't know. I wonder what else I'm going to feel. I really thought it would only be memories, things that I already knew about, things that were fixed or limited or set but this is new, and it's real, even though it was 35 years ago.
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