I am always so grateful for the life example my mother gave to me and my six siblings.  It stays with me and reminds me daily of how wise she was. She respected her "children" enough to let them grow up, make their own life choices,  many mistakes, and still accepted them for who, and where they were at any time in their lives.  She didn't use words like "respect" or "appreciation"  to control or manipulate us,  hold onto us longer then she should, when she should have been letting go.

She let go. 

Being her "baby", I know it wasn't an easy thing for her to do.  But she did it.

Our two oldest boys knew their Memere.  Although young when she passed, they each have a memory of her.  Matthew who was two at the time has said to me ...

" I don't remember what she looked like, or the sound of her voice... I just remember her hands. Like they are right in front of me. Held out, palms up."  

Through the  years of being a mom of seven children, my mother used those very hands for many things.  Cooking hundreds of meals for her own and any that came through the door.  Changing dozens of diapers.  Scrubbing many floors.  Hanging many loads of laundry, even in the dead of a Maine winter.  Planting flowers each spring at the cemetery for family who had gone before her.  Her husband, our dad, being one of them. And if we didn't out run her...even a good spanking with the yard stick, when and if we needed it or not.

(My dad is the one with the cigarette, of course, arm around my uncle, my mothers only sibling.  My oldest brother is the one in the blue tie. I was not yet born when this photo was taken.  Story of my life. )


Her oldest child, first born son, blue tie, went off to war when he was just 18.  Much like mine did.  Although both came home safely, (each in their own time), I know it was not part of  "her"  plan for his life.  To be so far from her and those who loved him most, a gun being his best friend.  I know it wasn't mine for our son. 

But let him go... she did.  I did.  We had too.  Not because we wanted too, but because we had too.  Not for ourselves, but for them.  We needed to let them grow up in the way they were choosing.

Even if our mothers hearts still could only see them as 4 years old playing Pound Puppies with their favorite cousins.

So much of who my mom was is still with me.  More lately.  Much more.  It's not even that I miss her really, because I do.  It's more of who she was, in me.  I see a bit of her in each of our four children, and I am so grateful.  It is interesting to me how they didn't really know her, but are so much like her.  Each in their own way.

I've said before how much Kates smile is my moms.  And it is.  But more then that, she has my moms wisdom, insight, and respect for people and who they are.  She loves her dad, respects who he is, and adores him. 

I see how much she loves and respects her boyfriend, her best friend, (even at her young age).  And his deep love for her.  She sees him as the young man that he is.  Smart, strong, responsible, good.  Capable of making good decisions and some mistakes along the way, all on his own.  He was raised well by two parents and a family that love him completely.

It reminds me of the deep love my parents had for each other... what Blue Eyes and I have been blessed with for twenty seven years.

It makes me appreciate my mom more and more as I see who she was,  in Kate.  How she handles her sweet life, (all 16 years ), and how she is growing into it.  I appreciate the years I have left with her, home with me, and have often told her I will suck the life out of them, and mean it.

But I will do, as my mother has done before me, and I did with her three older brothers before her...

let her go. 

I will not use words like "respect" or "ungratefulness"  to manipulate her emotions, cause her to feel unnecessarily guilty, and not let her grow up.  I will not make her feel as though she still needs me in order for her to be the responsible, reasonable, smart, wise young woman we have raised her to be. 

I will deal with my own emotions of letting her go, and all that they bring.

But I will let go. I will use my hands that have held her so close for her sweet life, brushed her long beautiful hair, cleaned up cuts and dirty faces, wipe tears from her precious cheeks,  to let her go. I will let her go so she doesn't feel the need to run from me.  Run as fast and as hard as she can, just to be an adult.

I will let her make her own choices, decisions, and yes, mistakes.  I'm sure I'll even hold her and let her cry a time or twenty.  But it will be her choice, not mine.

I will remember the example my mother lived before me, the one I hope I am instilling in my own daughter.

To let her live her life, not mine.

Between her and God. 

And be so very grateful for it. 

Hugs From My Heart