"You'll still have me."
It was 1982, the week of my mother's funeral. I was 32 and my life was everything I wanted. I had a husband and three kids who were my world, a job I liked, a house I loved, and enough money to pay the bills if we were careful.
And I was overwhelmed. It was a bad year in the marriage--you have those in 50 years; it just happens. A kid was heading into puberty, my husband and I worked different shifts, and I couldn't keep up. I couldn't be the kind of housekeeper all my in-laws were. I couldn't stay slim. I had bad hair. And then my mother died.
I would survive, and thrive. I knew that. That was just what we did, right? But I sat at my mother-in-law's kitchen table and told her what I knew to be the truth. "I realized this week that when Mom died, there is no one left who will love me regardless of anything that might happen."
That was when Mom--my mother-in-law was always Mom to me--looked into my eyes and said, "You'll still have me."
I did, for 34 more years, and although our relationship wasn't seamless, the love within it was. I was blessed by having her. I'm so grateful, but what I'm writing about...what I'm remembering...is that sometimes the perfect thing is said.
I wrote about it once for Valentine's Day, when, on our way home from receiving a "benign" verdict on my breast biopsy, Duane said, "It's the best day off I've ever had."
The first time my son-in-law met my daughter's grandmother, he got a bowl out of the cabinet that she couldn't reach. Later, at dinner, when someone complimented the contents of the bowl, Jim said, "Grandma and I made it," and won her heart forever.
I needed more than anything the words my second mom said to me that day. Being overwhelmed was a life state for quite some time, and occasionally still is. When I am, when I feel emotionally needy, I think of her again. And of those words.
Writers get to say them, the difference being we get to create the circumstances that produce the perfect words. The "my dear, I don't give a damns" and the "I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”I'm not sure I had a good reason for writing this post, except that as romance authors, love is our literary bottom line. Happily Ever Afters are not only the reader's reward, but the writer's as well. And if we manage to write something--just once in a while--that is perfect and stays on someone's heart for a long time giving comfort and joy, well, that's even better, isn't it?
This is an interactive post! What are some of the perfect things you've said, heard, read, or written? We're all listening.
I'm not sure there's anything to add to this... perfect words are rare indeed. Grandboy once told me, "Nanny, I just love your laugh." He was three at the time, so it was rather an extraordinary comment, but it warmed my heart and made me want to laugh more. And when is laughing more ever a bad thing? Thanks for a great post!
ReplyDeleteThat's pretty perfect!
DeleteGreat as alwayss
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteThis touches me - being able to say 'you have us' to my grandchildren is a statement Alan & I make often. I hope it sticks...my grandmother said it to me when I was 25 and my dad died suddenly. I said it to my oldest daughter when she lost her first child. Those words are meaningful at any age, at any stage in our lives. Thanks Liz for the reminder that no matter the situation, hearing that can help us heal
ReplyDeleteThanks, Debby. Even all these years later, I can still feel the comfort of those words.
DeleteMy dad died when my daughter was little, too young at first to understand death. When she finally realized she wasn't going to see him again, she wanted to go to his grave with us. She got out of the car, ran to the patch of dirt with no grass yet, and sat down in the middle of it. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Sitting on Grandpa's lap," she told me. And I'll never forget that.
ReplyDeleteOh, thank you for sharing that. I hope she's kept him close since his passing, because she sure had a good start on it.
DeleteWhen our toddler daughter was killed in a farm accident (1981) I was at IUK in my first day of science class for the nursing program. When I got to the hospital I said, “I wanted to become a nurse to make our life better but now, look what I’ve done!” My mother-in-law immediately said, “We’re not doing that.” I loved her for those perfect words and it still makes me tear up to think about it.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing that. I've admired your strength so often, but we seldom have the words to smooth the scars life leaves us, do we? I'm glad your mother-in-law--and mine--did. Hugs and prayers to you.
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