24. Grateful for my Mother

BACK TO MY REGULAR BLOG (with novel excerpts in between!) 


BLOG 24: August-October, 1997—There are times when you are down and out, and have nowhere to go, and then your mother shows up.  This is one of those times. I’m still in the hills of Oakland, California, writing the beginning pieces of what is later to become my novel, and then my mother visits. I’ve been in pain for months now, but only recently told my mother what was happening to me.

I haven’t been out of the house in a while—that is, until my mother arrives. Soon we are traveling to the ocean, sitting along the dunes of these Pacific waters, and my mother shares her own life challenges with me. I’ve never heard my mother tell me in such a heartfelt way what’s happening with her, and I feel an amazing sense of relief. Suddenly my pain and limitations don’t seem so bad, and, in her sharing, I feel connected to my mother in ways I never have. I have my mother back, I think and smile. In her vulnerability, I am able to be with mine.

There’s a lesson I learn in my vulnerability—and in being given the chance to see that in my mom: sometimes, for those of us who are raised to be so tough, being vulnerable is a gift. It brings us back to our humanity and opens a door for us to be with others with compassion and open heart. It allows us to enter into the grace of life, and become more fully ourselves because we are finally listening. .


4 thoughts on “24. Grateful for my Mother

  1. Actually, it was a bit of a two way thing – I needed her most when I was 8 years old, and my biological father died – I went looking for her – and found her two years later, about 1,200 miles away. He died, and my stepmother at the time – wife # 6 for him, needed a way to live, now that her “provider” was gone. She looked at all the custom made, tailored clothes my father made for me – a lifetime supply of clothes, and saw her means – they were worth over a hundred grand total, and took them all, including the ones I was wearing, and kicked me out. It was a rainy and windy day, and all I was wearing were rags. Father gone, and yeah, I needed my mother pretty bad at the moment. She wasn’t around as far I could tell, and I did not know where she was.. and so started my first journey, to search for her.

    To her, I showed up our of nowhere, as she had started a new life in the most unlikely of places and it seems she also needed me. She was living with a man who was nowhere like she was told, living in an environment that was very far away from the one she was accustomed to, in a most remote place she could have ever imagined. I never told her how I arrived there, feeling it was best to let her believe whatever she wanted to believe. Both of us were the most vulnerable as we were at the moment, braving whatever traumas and experiences the best way as we can, and handle such things on the soul level as best as we can.

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