She was my personal maid, laundress, nurse, chef, chauffeur, social planner, personal shopper, and hairstylist. She also paid for everything I needed. I was a kept girl and didn’t know it.

Before you fill yourself with envy, I’d like to tell you her name. Can you guess?

Her name was Ruth, and I called her Mom.

As a child,  I didn’t realize everything my mother did for me. Why would I? That’s just how life was. I couldn’t remember anything different. And I didn’t recognize all she did for me every single day.

I especially didn’t acknowledge anything when I was a teenager. I was too busy being snarky and believing I was smarter than her. Oh, the arrogance of youth.

About 25 years ago,  a licensed clinical psychologist friend told me that not long ago, one east coast state had a law allowing parents to kill their unruly, disrespectful teenagers. Today’s teens are lucky that law no longer exists.

Looking back, I give my mom credit. I don’t know how she tolerated my sass and unpleasant moods. I don’t think I’m why she had at least one scotch on the rocks every night after she came home from work. But I’m now certain I couldn’t have made her already difficult life any easier.

Being young, I didn’t understand everything she coped with and what the loss of the two men she loved meant to her. I resented how she changed after dad died, and I never understood it was because she was mortally wounded. I just wanted my happy, easygoing mother, not this sullen, sarcastic woman who often drank too much.

I didn’t appreciate my mom’s patience. I took for granted how she kept feeding, supporting, clothing, and cheering me on no matter what.

My mom loved me like no one else could. She loved me because I was her daughter and despite of anything I did. She loved me unconditionally. Did she always like me? Doubtful. I’m confident she didn’t. She wasn’t a saint, so I can’t claim she was always patient and sweet. As a teenager, I hung on to her negative attributes without appreciating everything she continued to do for me. I didn’t appreciate how she was always there when I needed her or how she loved me enough to tell me the truth when I needed to hear it, even knowing I might get angry.

My mother showed me love, but it took her death and all the time since to understand the depth of her love and everything she taught me.

I didn’t realize this was what I would write when I started, but since I’m here, I hope you’ll take time to reflect on your relationship with your mother or father. I understand some people have never known love. There are parents who are incapable of loving and caring for their children in the way they should have. And if that describes one or both of your parents, I’m sorry. But maybe there was one person in your life who gave you unconditional positive regard, showed you that you were good enough just as you are, and you can reflect on the gifts they gave you.

None of us goes through this life alone. We build upon our inherited genetics and the experiences offered to us by the people around us as we grow into adulthood and throughout our lives.

Maybe I’ve written what I have today because August is almost here. You see, August is an important month. I was born in August. My mother was born in August. And my mother died in August. It’s a month of memories filled with tears and smiles.

And this August, I will add a huge loving thank you to the woman who loved me enough to never give up believing in me.

My wish is that you take time to reflect on your relationship with your mother. Write down your thoughts. And if your mother is still alive, please thank her. Thank her for me because I can’t thank my mother other than through writing and in my heart.

I hope you’ll share what you learned.

 

 

Ode to My Personal Maid  first appeared in my Substack Newsletter, Musings From the Other Side of Young