I'm a Motherless Child, and I Don't Know Right From Wrong

Happy Mother's Day to all the incredible mothers out there!

The title of the post comes from a line in an Eric Clapton song "Motherless Child." The first time I heard Eric's song, I thought of myself.  I am a "Motherless Child," as my mom died almost 23 years ago.  It was the single most devastating moment of my life.  It was as though the Statute of Liberty had been taken out of New York Harbor, or Linus had lost his security blanket.  To quote my dear Lin Miranda in his Hamilton, it was the unimaginable that came to life.

Mothers are everything.  At least, mine was to me.  She was an incredibly unique person, and stood 5'10" tall.  She loved me more than anything.  I was her costuming muse, as she made all of my dance and theater costumes.  She also made most of my clothes - there was nothing she couldn't sew. However, she also loved shopping, especially getting great bargains at TJ Maxx.  She said the reason I was an only child is that she could only wait on one child at a time! I never had to do much for myself until I was well into adulthood.  I became used to how my mom treated me, as most children do.

My mom loved people, and never met a stranger.  She was also fiercely loyal, and unafraid to confront wrongs head-on.  My Dad used to say that my mom would fight a buzz-saw for me, and buddy was that ever true.  I pity the poor fool who tried to tear me down to my Mother.  Whew!  All that being said, she was the first one to point out to me when I was messing up.  And, she could be brutally honest.  But, if she loved you, she loved you unconditionally - a characteristic that is scarce in the world these days.  We love with conditions today, don't we?  She would call you out, but then do everything in the world for you.

She was a South Carolinian, and loved good fresh peaches, boiled peanuts, and fried okra.  She was a fierce lover of politics and described herself as a "wild-eyed radical liberal."  She didn't give a damn what anybody thought about her.  And, I think she was happy in her life.

In Fall, 1992, my mom was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer.  When I heard about her diagnosis, my Dad told me that she had about 6 months to live.  She lived almost two years past her diagnosis -- on sheer will, strength and love.  She went through stem-cell transplant twice -- something that no patient in Asheville, N.C. had ever done up to that point.  She wanted to continue to live so strongly and deeply that she made her body give her more time than the Doctors had predicted.  She was taken way too soon.  I'll never understand it, but just have to accept it.

To all the incredible surrogate mothers who have guided me throughout the past 23 years, I say Happy Mother's Day to you!  Hopefully there are those who consider me their Mama, too!