Holding out for a sign

Somewhere there inside all my stifled emotions was the feeling that my mother would, at the end, acknowledge or validate me in some way. I did not expect an apology for the way I had been excluded and shunned time and again since I was a young child although I think I might have held out for one. I did not expect to be acknowledged, or validated, although I think I might have been holding out for that. These feelings were so submerged - stifled away into the depths of my psyche so as to surprise me when I finally allowed myself to feel them. For the pain of it all rose up suddenly in the most unexpected places and moments as I began the real grieving process for her death over a month ago.

When I returned from Israel after her funeral and the shiva, I was numb. Shocked. My mother had defied death for five years, and in any case I could not imagine a world without her. She had been such an enormous presence and influence in my life, and I had yearned for her love and acknowledgement forever. As the days drifted by, emotions started to push and poke through my numbed state. I began to realize that during the last weeks that I sat with her, played her music I thought she might enjoy, and stroked her hair and hands, telling her I loved her, I was holding out for a sign. Some sort of recognition of my devotion and love - a smile, perhaps, a holding onto my hand. Something. Anything. It never came, even though I heard from others that she had turned toward them and smiled in a way that seemed intentional. Even as we laid her body to rest in the small village cemetery, I realized that like a child, I was waiting for her to rise up out of the grave and exclaim: "Hey! Tamar - I loved you - don't forget that!"

And then again, when the will was read, and I realized once and for all that there was no mention of me or my son - not even in the smallest way - emotions started to push through my crumbling, numbed state. Feelings of sadness and anger at to the end not having been acknowledged in any way. 

While it has been excruciating at times, I have been making connections with my complicated feelings and the book I am writing about children needing our attention. For even at age 67 I realize how important it is to be recognized by significant adults in our lives. These feelings from childhood never really leave us. They return over and over again in different forms and at unexpected moments. It accentuates for me just how important it is to give our youngest children the feeling that they are wanted, loved, noticed, and worthwhile - just by the fact of who they are and what they have to contribute. For there is nothing as painful as having our love rejected or ignored. Giving or withholding of attention is really all about relationship. It is not an act on its own. It is connected to all the complex feelings we have toward one another. Now that I am an adult, I understand that many of the times I was ignored, criticized or excluded had nothing to do with who I am or even what I had done. It had everything to do with my mother's insecurities, feelings of disappointment and frustration about her own life and relationship with her mother, husbands ... etc. I just happened to be there at the moments she needed to lash out or release those complex feelings about herself. However, as a child I couldn't be aware of all of that, and still I needed her to be there for me emotionally. 

Supported by dear friends and working with my therapist, my grief process feels manageable. More and more I am able to understand that having all these complex feelings is not bad, strange, or even that something is wrong with me. I understand more about my mother, and who she was as a person - charismatic, strong-willed, and who went through a lot in her own life of one hundred years. I realize some of the great things I learned from her: love of gardening, reading, and music. I am able to balance all that with sadness at losing her, all hope of her ever acknowledging me, and the pain of what I yearned for from her as a child, and even as her adult daughter.

Perhaps, at this grand old age of 67, soon to be 68, I can be proud of what I have accomplished in spite of all that stuff, continue to mother myself, learn more about my own self worth, and, finally, change my emotional life script for good! 

A year ago at Mining Nuggets: Self-regulation

Comments

[Nina Gaby]

I have no important or even cogent comment. I am just happy to listen to another passionate soul who shares my age. Thanks for the post and gentle blessings.

[Tamarika]

Dear Cheryl,
Your comment on my blog moved me deeply. Thank you so much for being my friend even all these miles away -it feels - for a lifetime. For my life changed so dramatically when I came to the States and you were there from the beginning.
You gave me this wonderful new image to dream about - being an elder. It feels solid and so much in keeping with where I feel I am headed right now.

Sending you much love always,
Tamar

[Tamarika]

Dear John,
I so appreciate your comment on my blog today. Thank you for taking the time to read my post, validate my feelings and give me hope - all at the same time! You are an amazingly good soul and a dear, dear friend.

Sending much love your way ...
Tamar xx

[John Abeles]

Tammi, Yakira....Your deep perception and the anguished love and longing you had for Beryl are so touching. I understand your pain and selfishly hadn't noticed in her the lack of attention to you. But as you say, on reflection, it had mostly to do with her own gremlins and life problems in her tumultuous other relationships.

But one thing you can say -- to have brought up, one way or another -- a beautiful, gentle and caring daughter like you is one testament to her fundamental qualities as a person and her transmission of many high and good values despite her only too human, maternal flaws.

I love you.

And again, wish you a Long and Sweet Life.

Harbei Neshikot

John

[Tamarika]

Thank you to everyone for your comments. So supportive and meaningful for me. I appreciate them very much.