Saturday, June 22, 2013

Prompt: Story of core family and acceptance

My mother is a Poem, I will Never be able to Write, through everything I write, is a poem to my mother.   Sharon Dubiago

I have poems but none about my mother and me. It seems to be elusive as a subject; maybe because poems are not seen as having value by her. That should not be the measure but it is likely the impasse.

Gertrude is her given name. I know she dislikes it.  My uncles and extended family call her Gertie. I always felt relieved to have no need to call Mom by her 1st name. It was not until I helped with various social welfare forms that her name now nearing eighty years owned was once again on my brow of awareness. Her hand shakes. I get to print her full name inclusive of the middle, Irene, and my father’s name that she did not give up after giving up on her 37 years of marriage with him.

I fill out descriptive forms with lists of ailments and meds and realize that my knowledge about my Mom is awkward and very incomplete; yet I have no questions.

We are not close. I do try to attend to RESPONSIBILITIES in the manner of my father. Maybe I am too much like him. My relationship is within the shadows of my brothers who are nearby and nearer to her heart.  She has told me “Your brothers need me more than you do.” I accept this without any out loud question.
When I was a teen I think she tried to live vicariously through my adolescent adventures. She remembers boys and names and dates much better than I. She had her favorites; they were not the same as mine.

While living with her as an adult and tending to the day to day of both of our overhead needs; I discovered Gertrude was a Saint – I attended a Church by that name wondering if it would bring me closer to my Mom.  It was an awkward stretch into an attempt for meaning; which did fail but I did find a Gertrude that connected with souls and words and that was a blessed thing.

A mother of many children will have many relationships and I am ok with mine. Maybe it is an oldest child thing. Upon reflection my core relations are similar to that with my Mom: important but distant. If there is a need I will be there. If there is an event I will attend. When it comes to family I do not find the locus of control within. 

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