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

[Claudia]

Important read. We always remain child to our parents at any age. And we never stop going through "phases." I appreciate your sharing your process. In doing so you offer validation to all our stories/histories.

[Cheryl Albers]

Dearest Tammy, How I wish I were there to give you a long and powerful hug. Growing up is never easy, even at 68....There is another book waiting for you to write in retirement. The adult 'stage of development' that occurs when both of your parents have died. No matter what your relationship with them was or was not, it is a time of intense emotion, regret, and introspection. Not to mention fear of stepping into the role of the eldest generation in a family.You are one of the strongest women I know, with one of the widest support networks I've ever seen. COntinue to use your strength and others support to work through this stage and focus on how you will play out your role as family elder. Much Love sent your way for this painful, but important journey.

[Tom Potter]

A very sad lack of acknowledgment to you Tamar. Now I remember what someone said to me once when I said I never remember hearing my parents say to me I love you even though they provided everything I needed growing up except hearing that phrase, What my friend said to me in a very stern way was, Well, do you ever tell them I love you.
So as only my mother was still alive I would say I love you whenever I would infrequently be with her. Finally, one time when my mother was dropping me off at the airport and I said I love you to her she said I love you back. After that it happened on a regular basis. Yes, I was very fortunate. My best wishes to you Tamar and sympathies for the loss of your mother.

[Tamarika]

David, so good to find your comment here. Your feedback is important to me. And if my story helps you understand more about you - well, then -I know this piece might do well to be included in the book I am writing as we speak. All my very best always, Tamar

[David Heath]

Painful, powerful, and personal stuff. Thank you for sharing, Tamar. You have no idea how this post touched me and made me understand more about myself and my childhood and adult relationships with my father.

David