My mother and I are estranged, for reasons that are immaterial. But the fact remains, with what I’m feeling and thinking, never more have I wished I had a mother I was close to. One who would give me the validation and warmth I desperately have craved in the past. Who has the wisdom of years lived, the calmness of successfully fighting life’s burdens, and the willingness to share from a place that is open, warm, personal and non-judgemental.

The fact is; I have never really known my Mom. I have loved her, had some good times, and I know she loves me. I also know she has never liked me, that I get on her nerves and she still addresses me from a place that is decades past. I’ve accepted this, embraced it and shared a relationship based on surface pleasantries.

She has dealt with breast cancer, fought it and won. She has dealt with unfeeling and uncaring medical professionals. She stepped into the role as her own medical advocate, and fought it without any emotional upheaval to her confidence. She came from a place of not caring what others think, doing and fighting for what was best for her. She did it with the support and love of my father by her side. I wonder sometimes though, did she ever feel like she wished she had her mother to give her the comforting hug of unconditional love? Or is that a testament to a comfort she gave me while growing up? (If it is, I don’t remember it) But I know at the moment I crave it more than anything else in the world! And have at different times in my life, craved this type of love, from the woman who bore me. I make a point of trying to remember this while parenting my own children.

The difference is, I’m still raising them, and know I have to come from a much different place, as a parent. Dealing with adult children I do believe is an art. One I haven’t mastered yet, since my children are still working on the business of growing up. Maybe mine will one day see me as I see my mother. I hope not, but then there are no guarantees that their scars from my parenting mistakes won’t dictate how they perceive me when they reach adulthood.

I remember as a kid, when I was sick, I wanted my mother’s hugs. That’s how I feel. I want her to comfort me and calm the fear. But we don’t interact from a place where this is possible. More so now, since we are not speaking or in contact. I love her and I hope she is happy. But not even being in a place of fearful emotionalism would drive me to seek out what she’s denied me in the past. I don’t fault her for this, I am proud of her many accomplishments, especially when you take into consideration where she started from. She has come farther and defied the odds on more than a few occasions in her life. And by suggesting she isn’t capable of giving me something that I want, feel I need right now, doesn’t diminish her victories. This is just me whining and expressing what I would have liked to have received from her.

We don’t pick our relatives, though in my case, I know that when the proverbial chips are down, my family would be there supporting and cheering for me. Above all, praying for me. I know this is far more than many ever receive from their families. I know I’m blessed immensely. But still, there are times that it seems the only thing I want is the comfort and wisdom of a Mom. The kind of comfort that a Mom gives her toddler who has fell down and scraped her knees, and Mom works her magic and makes it all better.

I have to go back to being Mom, and let go of my inner little girl. But as I do that, I’m going to give her that comforting hug, and tell her; “I love you, and this too shall pass, Teri.”