That last line killed me! I have a complicated relationship with my 90-year old mom (in that I'm the only one who recognizes why it feels complicated). While we selected flowers for the graves of lost family members last weekend, she made a specific (difficult) request about her own burial. How can I refuse? I told her. "I will haunt you if do," she said.
Thanks for sharing how you have processed your own mother complications
Thanks so much for reading, Catherine. I especially love when readers share their own stories. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say they didn’t have a complicated mother-daughter relationship. So many hormones. Love that your mom threatened you with a haunting. Sounds like she’s still sharp. 🧡
Heartbreaking, Lynn 💔 My dad was like that. He never hugged me growing up or said 'I love you', it was all Mum. But when he got older, he did. It's bizarre how they change when they become vulnerable, as you say. It's so true. It's like they know they should've done better or something. At least, that's how I felt about my father. You were there for her when it mattered. I always think when I read stories about difficult mother/daughter relationships - if only mothers knew it's most likely the daughters who'll be there at the end, so nurturing that relationship would be so much more beautiful. Do you know what I mean? I'm sorry for all your losses, Lynn. 🤍
Thanks so much, Marcia. I absolutely know what you mean. What complicated things was how cruel she was to my dad as he declined, before he went into a nursing home. I held soooo much anger toward her. Had the timing been different, I would have missed out on her softening. She’s damn lucky I’m a forgiving person. And so am I.
From what I've seen, most of us soften with age, Lynn. I'm sorry your mother didn't do that for your father when he probably needed it most. Hurtful. You are such a forgiving person. That's clear, my friend 🤍
Yeah. Lots to unpack with that one. Thankfully, the nurses at the nursing home were exceptional. They loved my dad and treated him with so much love. While I hated seeing him incapacitated and virtually unable to speak, I also held so much joy that he was so well taken care of. It somewhat made up for at least a fraction of my mom’s poor treatment. They only thought he’d last a few weeks, a month at best, following that last doozy of a stroke. Instead he lasted five months. I know it was because of them. 🥰
Oh, Lynn. That’s so lovely. What a gift that was for your dad. So many aren’t treated kindly, so he was very lucky. I’m sure that gave you such peace of mind. Strokes are so horrible! I always thought that if I ever had one (my dad had one), I would hope it was the fatal kind. It’s dreadful what they go through, but at least your dad had those lovely nurses around him 🥰
What a beautiful tribute to your mom…and also to you & your ability to accept from her what she had to give even though it wasn’t what you were craving. I’m so glad you had (and took) the opportunity to feel her love and appreciation for you before she passed away. She was lucky to have you & seemed to to be aware of that.
No doubt your mom loved you very much. She sounds like she had a tough time expressing herself, at least until the end. My mom is a little like that, I can relate.
It is beautiful that you had the opportunity to connect with your mother in such a loving way even if it was later in her life. Not everyone gets second chances. Thanks for sharing this powerful post.
Lynn, I really enjoyed this piece a lot. It sounds like our mums were kind of similar. It wasn’t until I was a mum myself that she and started holding hands again (like when I was very little) and smiling at each other for no reason. But still no spontaneous I love you’s. When she understood she was dying, all she wanted was the opportunity to tell each of her five adult kids that she loved them so much and was so happy to have had us. Go figure.
I tell my two adult daughters I love them every day, and they do the same. It’s like breathing. Automatic maybe, but oh so essential to living!
Thanks so much for reading, Molly. Glad you enjoyed it. Yeah, lots more love shown in the end. Better late than never! I was definitely a different type of mom—lots of hugging, lots of “I love you’s.” Miss the hugs with my son in the military. 😞 Haven’t seen him since December . Ah well.
Beyond. We had been FaceTiming almost every weekend until about a month ago. He was out of cell range… hoping to see him in June! Second longest stretch of not seeing him. The first was the first year of COViD. Dropped hjm off for bootcamp mid December, saw him for half a day mid Feb for graduation and dinner then Not until Xmas. 😭 At least he seems happy.
I could say so much.... because I think we assumed that parental love was the way we saw it in family sit coms or in books. But it's far more complex and nuanced.
It made me think about how some people love us in a language they were never taught to speak out loud. Not everyone gives affection in the obvious ways. Some people don’t arrive with big declarations, dramatic hugs, or the emotional fluency of a therapist with excellent lighting. Some people love by staying. By remembering. By doing the errand. By showing up with the practical thing while you’re still waiting for the tender thing.
And that can be so complicated, because the love may be real, but so is the ache of not receiving it in the form you needed.
I think that’s one of the hardest parts of growing up: realizing that our parents may have loved us with everything they had, while still leaving us hungry in places they didn’t know how to feed. That doesn’t make them monsters. It doesn’t make us ungrateful. It just makes the whole thing human, which is rude, frankly. I was promised clearer categories.
What I love here is that you don’t turn your mother into a saint or a villain. You let her be a person. And you let yourself be one too. That feels like the deeper kind of forgiveness: not pretending the wound wasn’t there, but refusing to make the wound the whole story.
And maybe that’s where affection becomes most powerful, not when it arrives perfectly, but when it arrives late and still somehow matters.
Touching story, and so necessary. I think many women of our generation were raised by women like this: emotionally stunted, or at least unable to share emotion openly. Of course, your ending line perfectly expresses your humor. If she does haunt you, she'll probably be more loving as a ghost!
Thanks for reading, Michelle, and for your thoughtful words. Definitely a more hands off approach back then, literally and figuratively. I told my mom not to scare me if she comes back to see me 🙃 Stay tuned!
This was very powerful and reminds me of my relationship with my dad—complexity in how affection was transmitted and received for sure. Thank you for this honest reflection.
Thanks so much for reading, William. Definitely complex. When it came to hugging, my dad was the same way. But I always felt his love. Different times.
Oh Lynn, this one really got me. My mom and I are so close but she has never been a hugger or one to say “I love you” all the time like my husband’s family does. She shows me her love in other ways. We now hug goodbye as adults but it’s always like you described with your mom.
The part about her cradling you while you wept over not being able to carry a child made me weep! My mom held me similarly after my miscarriage and I’ll never forget the way she was there for me. Thanks for sharing this. I really enjoyed it this morning ❤️
Thanks for reading, Sam. I guess they did the best they could with the tools they were given. The fact our moms were there for us when it counted is such a gift.
That last line killed me! I have a complicated relationship with my 90-year old mom (in that I'm the only one who recognizes why it feels complicated). While we selected flowers for the graves of lost family members last weekend, she made a specific (difficult) request about her own burial. How can I refuse? I told her. "I will haunt you if do," she said.
Thanks for sharing how you have processed your own mother complications
Thanks so much for reading, Catherine. I especially love when readers share their own stories. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say they didn’t have a complicated mother-daughter relationship. So many hormones. Love that your mom threatened you with a haunting. Sounds like she’s still sharp. 🧡
Heartbreaking, Lynn 💔 My dad was like that. He never hugged me growing up or said 'I love you', it was all Mum. But when he got older, he did. It's bizarre how they change when they become vulnerable, as you say. It's so true. It's like they know they should've done better or something. At least, that's how I felt about my father. You were there for her when it mattered. I always think when I read stories about difficult mother/daughter relationships - if only mothers knew it's most likely the daughters who'll be there at the end, so nurturing that relationship would be so much more beautiful. Do you know what I mean? I'm sorry for all your losses, Lynn. 🤍
Thanks so much, Marcia. I absolutely know what you mean. What complicated things was how cruel she was to my dad as he declined, before he went into a nursing home. I held soooo much anger toward her. Had the timing been different, I would have missed out on her softening. She’s damn lucky I’m a forgiving person. And so am I.
From what I've seen, most of us soften with age, Lynn. I'm sorry your mother didn't do that for your father when he probably needed it most. Hurtful. You are such a forgiving person. That's clear, my friend 🤍
Yeah. Lots to unpack with that one. Thankfully, the nurses at the nursing home were exceptional. They loved my dad and treated him with so much love. While I hated seeing him incapacitated and virtually unable to speak, I also held so much joy that he was so well taken care of. It somewhat made up for at least a fraction of my mom’s poor treatment. They only thought he’d last a few weeks, a month at best, following that last doozy of a stroke. Instead he lasted five months. I know it was because of them. 🥰
Oh, Lynn. That’s so lovely. What a gift that was for your dad. So many aren’t treated kindly, so he was very lucky. I’m sure that gave you such peace of mind. Strokes are so horrible! I always thought that if I ever had one (my dad had one), I would hope it was the fatal kind. It’s dreadful what they go through, but at least your dad had those lovely nurses around him 🥰
What a beautiful post. It reminds me that people show love in different ways and that acceptance might be a form of love!
So true, Katie. Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment. 🙏
What a beautiful tribute to your mom…and also to you & your ability to accept from her what she had to give even though it wasn’t what you were craving. I’m so glad you had (and took) the opportunity to feel her love and appreciation for you before she passed away. She was lucky to have you & seemed to to be aware of that.
Thanks so much, Linnea. That means a lot. 🥰
No doubt your mom loved you very much. She sounds like she had a tough time expressing herself, at least until the end. My mom is a little like that, I can relate.
Thanks, Laurie. I was touched by how she came around in the end.
It is beautiful that you had the opportunity to connect with your mother in such a loving way even if it was later in her life. Not everyone gets second chances. Thanks for sharing this powerful post.
So true. Some aspects of my parents’ final years were oddly… perfect. Thanks so much for reading, Julie 🙏
Thank you for writing it! Perfection at the end is a blessing!
Lynn, I really enjoyed this piece a lot. It sounds like our mums were kind of similar. It wasn’t until I was a mum myself that she and started holding hands again (like when I was very little) and smiling at each other for no reason. But still no spontaneous I love you’s. When she understood she was dying, all she wanted was the opportunity to tell each of her five adult kids that she loved them so much and was so happy to have had us. Go figure.
I tell my two adult daughters I love them every day, and they do the same. It’s like breathing. Automatic maybe, but oh so essential to living!
Thanks so much for reading, Molly. Glad you enjoyed it. Yeah, lots more love shown in the end. Better late than never! I was definitely a different type of mom—lots of hugging, lots of “I love you’s.” Miss the hugs with my son in the military. 😞 Haven’t seen him since December . Ah well.
Going on six months without a Big Boy hug is hard. I bet your son misses them too.
Beyond. We had been FaceTiming almost every weekend until about a month ago. He was out of cell range… hoping to see him in June! Second longest stretch of not seeing him. The first was the first year of COViD. Dropped hjm off for bootcamp mid December, saw him for half a day mid Feb for graduation and dinner then Not until Xmas. 😭 At least he seems happy.
Lynn, it's wonderful you can reflect upon the moments you had with your Mom and accept each in its own way.
It’s been a journey, that’s for sure. Thanks for reading, Melanie! 🙏
Feeling loved and being loved are completely different. I hear you there.
Yeah. 🙏
I could say so much.... because I think we assumed that parental love was the way we saw it in family sit coms or in books. But it's far more complex and nuanced.
So true, Carol. Maybe you could write about it! Thanks, as always, for reading. 🙏
This is such a tender, honest piece.
It made me think about how some people love us in a language they were never taught to speak out loud. Not everyone gives affection in the obvious ways. Some people don’t arrive with big declarations, dramatic hugs, or the emotional fluency of a therapist with excellent lighting. Some people love by staying. By remembering. By doing the errand. By showing up with the practical thing while you’re still waiting for the tender thing.
And that can be so complicated, because the love may be real, but so is the ache of not receiving it in the form you needed.
I think that’s one of the hardest parts of growing up: realizing that our parents may have loved us with everything they had, while still leaving us hungry in places they didn’t know how to feed. That doesn’t make them monsters. It doesn’t make us ungrateful. It just makes the whole thing human, which is rude, frankly. I was promised clearer categories.
What I love here is that you don’t turn your mother into a saint or a villain. You let her be a person. And you let yourself be one too. That feels like the deeper kind of forgiveness: not pretending the wound wasn’t there, but refusing to make the wound the whole story.
And maybe that’s where affection becomes most powerful, not when it arrives perfectly, but when it arrives late and still somehow matters.
Thanks so much for reading, Chris. There’s such beauty and deep meaning in the words you shared here. 🙏
Touching story, and so necessary. I think many women of our generation were raised by women like this: emotionally stunted, or at least unable to share emotion openly. Of course, your ending line perfectly expresses your humor. If she does haunt you, she'll probably be more loving as a ghost!
Thanks for reading, Michelle, and for your thoughtful words. Definitely a more hands off approach back then, literally and figuratively. I told my mom not to scare me if she comes back to see me 🙃 Stay tuned!
This was very powerful and reminds me of my relationship with my dad—complexity in how affection was transmitted and received for sure. Thank you for this honest reflection.
Thanks so much for reading, William. Definitely complex. When it came to hugging, my dad was the same way. But I always felt his love. Different times.
I really enjoy reading your work
Thanks, William. That means the world 🙏
I love your stories from your own life examples Lynn ❤️🫶
Thanks, Hina.
Tender and honestly written.
Thanks for reading, Cathy. 🙏
Oh Lynn, this one really got me. My mom and I are so close but she has never been a hugger or one to say “I love you” all the time like my husband’s family does. She shows me her love in other ways. We now hug goodbye as adults but it’s always like you described with your mom.
The part about her cradling you while you wept over not being able to carry a child made me weep! My mom held me similarly after my miscarriage and I’ll never forget the way she was there for me. Thanks for sharing this. I really enjoyed it this morning ❤️
PS. So happy you were touched by my story.
You’re such a good writer. Honestly, sometimes I get bored with people’s writing but yours draws me in and I want to read every word.
Thanks so much, Sam. That means the world coming from you. 🙏💕
Thanks for reading, Sam. I guess they did the best they could with the tools they were given. The fact our moms were there for us when it counted is such a gift.