When my son was 7 months old my mother had a massive stroke that almost killed her – she was only 59 and it just about shattered my world. She was my biggest cheerleader and my staunchest advocate. My son was her first grand-baby and she was in the room with me when I gave birth. She was his first babysitter and I called her just about daily with whatever was going on with him. We visited weekly after he was born and I remain profoundly grateful for that time together. All of this to say that after her stroke when we finally got her home, even with fairly profound aphasia she was able to give me some advise that has always shaped my life.
He's his own little person you know.
Growing up my mother never made me feel less than (unlike my father). She was always straight forward yet kept a bit of that "mom always knows" mysticism. She elegantly skated that fine line between honesty and keeping my baby sis and I sheltered from stuff we didn't need to know. For example, we were pretty poor when I was young but I had no clue that we were until years later. I guess I should've known just from the fact that we had a tiny black and white TV while my best friends family had a giant color TV but it was just how things were. She never complained and never put either of us girls in a bad spot between her and our father. When he went off she would only step in when he was being completely unfair, otherwise we knew she was on our side and would come to us after, which we were fine with. Without saying a word we just seemed to understand how our family dynamic worked. Us girls would just share glances with each other that my dad was completely oblivious to (or just ignored) that kept us more or less on an even keel.
Even though my father could be an emotionally abusive asshat, he certainly wasn't all bad. With a different woman, perhaps he would've been the sort of parent who thought their children were possessions. Not with my mother, though. Her core belief that children were their own people always shone through and it was lesson I never really needed to be told, it was a fact of our lives. And, again, I am profoundly grateful.
Many years later my sister in law (who was one of my best friends from 3rd period biology class on the first day of our freshman year in high school) would tell me the story of her mom calling mine in a quandary over some dress Ann (my now sis in law) wanted to wear to some shin dig the two of them were going to. Ann's mom was concerned the outfit was "too revealing," and my mom pointed out that Ann was an adult and could wear whatever she wanted. Rachel (Ann's mom) didn't like that answer. Ann had an enviable hour glass figure and was well endowed so, unless she wore a turtleneck muumuu, any dress would reveal something. In my mind I see an off the shoulder floral number with a full skirt so it's not like Ann wanted to wear a strapless micro-mini. My mother knew Ann quite well and treated her as she treated everybody - especially children - as their own people. I think she tried to impart that wisdom onto Rachel who begrudgingly accepted it and Ann did, indeed, wear that dress (and looked spectacular).
Growing up, my mother never interfered in our friendships. If she was iffy about a person she'd allow us to come to our own realizations and later say, "I never liked so-and-so," lol. And she trusted us to eventually come to these realizations in our own time. Aloud she informed us that she would always believe our teachers over us so we knew not to try to lie. However, when we were treated unfairly, she stood up for us. Yet another balancing act she seemed to pull off with ease although I now know that it wasn't really all that easy. But when you make the effort to get to know your children as people you understand them far better than they understand themselves and it give you keen insight into their psyches. Which you always hold with loving kindness because of the respect you've afforded them as their birthright.
After mom's stroke and our fight to get her home I was sitting with her as she sat up in bed with a breakfast tray on her lap. My 11 month old son toddled in, looked around, and toddled out. Mom pointed her spoon at me and said, clear as a bell, "he's his own person you know." I did know and that is how I have always treated him. Today he's a strapping 6 foot tall full grown man with a glorious head of hair, a keen mind and wit, and a gentle nature. He doesn't smoke (unlike my hubby and I), very rarely drinks and has never done a single drug. And absolutely none of this was my doing, I do not take credit – it's all him. However, I did raise him as his own person. I'm not nearly as good of a mother as my own was but I try.
The impetus for this article is because I just watched CLR Bruce Rivers video regarding the death of his son and my heart breaks. My own son will be 27 years old this year, the same age as Michael, and I cannot imagine how devastated Bruce is. Watching their interactions for the past few years reminds me of mine with my son so I get the feeling Bruce raised his son much as I raised mine (and how I was raised). He is not responsible for his son's choices and, for those who are less than gracious, you should know that none of us parents are. We do our best and also hope for the best when we send our children out into the world. We are there for our offspring, we help as much as we are allowed, we try to give them soft landing places. We do not dictate to them, we do not try to force them to do anything, we understand that our children are not possessions, they are people. We love them unconditionally, we're always proud and we keep our disappointment to ourselves unless it's a gentle learning lesson for their greater good.
