Mother, May I?

My mother didn't want to be a mother at first. It was after she felt a sense of pride about me as her child - that's when she started enjoying her "mother" status. My grandmother always offered unconditional love and protection, but my mother was different. She was my teacher and coach, which meant that she could not always offer lovey-dovey mushy stuff, and sometimes she had to teach discipline, which did not resemble protection. In symbolic terms, she was like a dragon fiercely interested in her status as guardian of the "prize" - me. I would not accomplish "prize" status unless she accomplished her mission of teaching me and disciplining me enough to be the "prize".

As a child the lessons were not difficult. Listen, pay attention, get along with others, and don't cause trouble. Respect your elders, and take note of the size of people and their wallets. Don't steal. When in doubt, refer to Moses. Most of the time I was a star pupil under her training and she rewarded me with many luxuries and comforts.

As a teenager the lessons got tougher. It was preparation time for adult life and I was having a hard time understanding what that meant. I watched at school how my peers were trying to embrace "adult" life with jobs and relationships. I watched how teens joined clubs or created cliques to learn and teach each other about teamwork. I participated where and when I could, but I still felt like I was struggling. Like I wasn't achieving the success as a pupil as I had during my childhood years. My mother was not offering much in the way of rewards as she was wanting me to learn the value of creating and earning my own rewards. I had a few successes, but nothing that seemed extraordinary.

Upon graduation, my mother remained my mentor and my "net", meaning she wanted me to take risks, and was willing to catch me if I fell. I didn't want to fall, but I did take some risks, and I did fall a few times, and she did catch me.

Sadly, I got too comfortable with that situation. I enjoyed being an adult, and I enjoyed knowing that I could fall and someone would catch me. The final and most difficult lesson she taught me was upon her passing away. She died at the age of 60; I was 41. I didn't expect that. At this writing, I have lived 9 years without my mother as my mentor or net. The final lesson she had to teach me was how to live without her. I'm still here after 9 years, so I think I passed.

My mother was the best to me as a teacher, a coach, and a disciplinarian. Whatever is good or great about me (not mentioning my soft, sentimental, or tender side) it is due to her strict teachings and 40 years of investing in my life. I was the luckiest kid in the world to have her in that role for me and I will always be grateful about it.

I will not forget her when I set the table. I will not forget her when I choose clothing or furniture. I will not forget her when I read a book or write a letter. I will not forget her when I type on a computer or typewriter. I will not forget her when I'm in the car driving on the highway. I will not forget her when I'm in the kitchen cooking. I will not forget her when I play the clarinet or the piano. I will not forget her when I see a ballet or a play on the stage. I will not forget her when I see a house for sale. I will not forget her when I see a church or a wedding dress. I will not forget her when I hear English spoken perfectly or another language being spoken. I will not forget her whenever I watch a Disney movie or Gone With the Wind. I will not forget her whenever I see attractive jewelry. I will not forget her whenever someone mentions a cruise ship or Mexico. I will not forget her whenever I go to the bank or balance my account. I will always hold the memory of her close to my heart, always love her, and I will not forget her.