The last word

Quote of the day:

In the end, the writer has the last word ... Nicole Krauss, Radio Times, NPR

Recently, while sifting through old papers in my memory box, I found a correspondence between my mother and I from 16 years ago. On this six month anniversary since my mother died, these letters reminded me of the complexity of relationships and emotions. Indeed, my letter to her back in 2001 was a tribute to her, and I wish I had read it aloud at her funeral in March this year.

On November 17th 2001, I wrote my mother a letter:

Dear Mom,

I have been thinking about you a lot. I thought about how much you always helped others and how you enjoy life through all your suffering. I see, in myself, pieces of you and I am so proud and happy that you are my mother. My strength, determination. The fact that I help anyone - doesn't matter who they are, where they come from - doesn't matter how much it costs or how risky it will be. That comes from you. My ability to not just accept what someone tells me - but check it out (research it!) - that comes from you. Although you were not a major political activist, I learned from you that injustice and intolerance is not right. I learned about brutal honesty from you! And I love that. I learned from you that one could always make things better. Even in my darkest hours, I always find a way out. I learned that from you. Money is no object! I learned that from you. Love of - no not love - passion for music - I learned from you. Passion for drama, I learned from you. All these wonderful pieces of you are inside me. I own them and have made them a part of me. And I am the richer for it. And so is my son.

I know that you and I - our relationship - have been challenged through the years. So many struggles and fights. But my love for you is strong and I am deeply grateful for so much of what I have learned from you. I admire your courage, Mom. You tirelessly search for happiness and find it in beautiful moments, beautiful gardens, beautiful books, movies, with interesting people, and with children. You taught us all to love children - to respect children - and to fight for them. Each of us fights for our children - in our family - in deep, respectful ways. Sometimes the love and fight for our children seems weird - but we all know that our children are the most precious. You taught us all that.

You are a work of art, Mom. And I cherish and appreciate you so much. I am writing you this letter in a gorgeous hotel in a beautiful wooded, park-like area of Washington D.C. It is early in the morning - sun shining through the windows and beautiful fall leaves - red, orange, rust-colored, are brilliant with the sun's rays. I will meet with the book editor today at noon to see what he has to offer/suggest. And I remember you giving me a typewriter for my 16th birthday! What a gift that was, I wish I had held onto it all those years. You taught me that writing, knowledge, education is so important. You were right!  And I have learned that it is very important to be yourself no matter what. It's tough. It makes people mad and we lose people along the way who can't take it - but being who we are is more important than anything.

Am going to do my workout and prepare for my meeting. I am so excited. And you are the only person I felt like sharing this with! I always remember you sitting by my bed when I was little and you would tell me the story of how, one day, I would dance at Covent garden - and you would be up in the box watching. Well - today sort of feels like that story.

I love you, Mom. Thank you.

Tamar

A month later, on December 19, 2001, my mother wrote me a letter in response. Here follows part of it:

My darling Tamar,

Here I am in  Manchester - it was lovely to find your pig on arrival [my mother loved pigs and I had sent her a picture of one] and he is on my table now instead of one of the family! Did you get my message on your phone the other day before I left? I travelled on British Airways and had to change planes in London as there isn't a direct flight anymore - perfect attention from start to finish and tasty fresh food - so different from Air Canada. This letter is meant to be an answer to the overwhelming letter that you sent me - the one that I am most terrified to touch - when I go back I intend to read it quite often and get used to it and what it offers, there have been many times in my life that I felt I was standing alone on top of a cold mountain with big winds roaring around - I am not being dramatic as I am not a morbid person. That is just the way I felt but now your letter has made me feel a warm soft blanket wrapped around me and great security. I wanted to write something down so that when I am dead you will have something to hold and look at and you will remember this happy time we had together. The telephone conversation is not solid enough. It will fade away.

[She then went on to describe news about her life in Israel and her visit in Manchester. She concluded:]

Happy Xmas and New Year - special love to [my son and husband] xxx

As ever

B/Mom

The pain I have been feeling since my mother's death has surprised me, because I thought I had worked it all out between us. But, somehow, the end of her life has given me permission to allow myself to experience feelings, which I had stifled during my childhood in order to survive and continue a loving relationship with my mother going forward. I realize without doubt that we loved each other, and that we competed with one another as women often do.

While I will continue to write and have the last word when it comes to my version of our relationship - I feel happily and with much emotion, that my mother has the last word in her moving response to my letter sixteen years ago in 2001, on the eve of my becoming a published author two years later.

She knew that putting words in writing would give me something to hold onto when she died. A testament to her understanding about life, and the fierce, complicated love she had for all her children - me, included.

Comments

[Stanley]

I got a strange thrill reading your Mom's reply. I've never read anything Beryl wrote. Thanks.

[betsy]

I am so happy to read that your mom had moments when her higher angels prevailed, and that you have her very own testimony of her acknowledging the deep love between you. How powerful.