The other day I attended a funeral. The service was held in the same cemetery where my parents are buried. I brought along my book. I thought I’d show it to my parents as I stood over their graves. I imagined they could see me. It’s been a year and a half since my mother’s death, and I am still trying to define the relationship I had with her. At times I’ve wondered if I’ve unfairly portrayed her. I’ve often compared her to the Wicked Witch. Yet that’s not a complete picture of who she was. What made it hard to be her child was her criticism, disapproval, and my constant longing for her to love me back. She never made me feel like I was good enough.
Thank you for your honesty and openness Cathy. It sure seems to me that many of us are trying evolve our families toward better… as parents and children.
In a touch of synchronicity… I painted and shared an image of a girl with a baton today.
what a great photo. And I love that excerpt from your book. You are fearless, you pu tit allow the page. I agree with you, I think your mom would get it.
Beautiful and vulnerable post, my friend! I think you portray your mom with honesty and love.
Thank you for your honesty and openness Cathy. It sure seems to me that many of us are trying evolve our families toward better… as parents and children.
In a touch of synchronicity… I painted and shared an image of a girl with a baton today.
How cool is that?!
what a great photo. And I love that excerpt from your book. You are fearless, you pu tit allow the page. I agree with you, I think your mom would get it.