I was watching Grey’s Anatomy this week and there was a scene where one of the doctors was feeling sad about the loss of her mother the previous year. She was missing the bond, friendship, and closeness she had with her mother. I started crying because I started thinking of my own mother who has passed. Every time I start crying over my mom’s passing I feel disingenuous, and even “fake”, for grieving because it’s not like I’m wishing she were still here, which leads to all kinds of familiar guilt. I know… that’s pretty messed up to say and that is why I usually shut it down at that point and try to move on. This time, though, I pushed myself to question why it is I am upset. It didn’t take long to figure it out.
My mom and I did not have the closest relationship – ever. We fought a lot, we also had our times when we got along but… I never had the kind of relationship with her where she was my “go-to” person whom I would confide in or would ask for her guidance or advice. Maybe I would have not made so many bad decisions early in my adult life if I had but if I am being completely honest, my young self did not trust her ability to be what I needed (wow – I am only just realizing this). I think this is mostly because my mom had a tendency to throw my mistakes back in my face later on. Also, she had no filter and usually told my business to anyone who would listen.
However, she was a good mother and had the truest of intentions, always. My mom took her job as a mother very seriously. All she ever wanted was to be a mother (sound familiar?). She taught us right from wrong, provided a safe and stable home,cooked amazing meals and that woman spoiled me rotten. Anything I ever wanted she made sure I got it, whether I deserved it or not. She kept a pretty tight leash on me growing up but I know it was to keep me safe. She adored her children and wanted to be the best mother on the planet. She tried so hard.
Sadly, adoptive parents do not share the DNA with their child so it can be a bit more challenging to understand a child’s motivations and behaviors. My mom and I were like oil and water and neither of us understood why or how to resolve it. I was immature and she had her own issues from being an abused child and losing multiple pregnancies before adopting. We could never seem to get on the same page. I loved her in my own way and that was just not enough for what she needed, therefore, she was never my best friend or my rock nor was I ever that for her in return.
We never had the unique and special mother/daughter bond and it doesn’t even matter why, whether that was due to the adoption of personalities. The fact is, I missed out on that kind of connection with a mother and she was my only shot at having it.
…That is why I cry.