Janet, I think mother/daughter relationships are more complicated than not. My mom’s been gone for a long time, and my feelings toward her have softened quite a bit. I see the pain that drove her, but also the love. Thank you for your kind words.
I agree and in fact yesterday I reposted something I wrote about my mom 16 years ago (when she had already been gone for nearly twenty years). So, yeah, it's complicated and it all takes time. Here's the post (I hope it is not out of line to share the link here. Just want to make it easier to find for you or anyone else who might want to read it.) https://janethulstrand.substack.com/p/people-i-have-known-00b
Oh this broke my heart in so many ways, Mary, but it also made me realize how much you recognized the “almosts” and “toos”and discarded/rejected them in your own parenting and in your own life. That “one leg good” speaks volumes … oh to be her. Oh to be you! Hugs, my friend. I am so grateful for your articulation, your ability to share such visceral details and histories with such ease, and your beautiful rendering of this messy middle, making it almost elegant in its nuanced complexities.
Mansi, thank you. I’m glad that this spoke to you. My mother’s legacy is one of resilience. I learned how to survive under some bleak conditions, not in optimal ways, but circuitously. I’m still learning. Time is a gift. I would not have been able to write this essay even a year ago. Much love to you.
Mary, Such a beautiful sad piece, especially on Mother’s Day. Our mothers leave so many legacies — often stored away, surfacing in their own time. You have so movingly shared your unwrapping of these discoveries and memories ♥️
Thank you, Sharon. I have to say that the bags of pantyhose were unexpected. And “good or almost” is still a puzzle. But one of the gifts of surviving the loss of one’s parents is the ability to see the richness of their lives, and the mystery. My mother had such sweetness in her. I hope that came through in this piece.
Monica, my condolences. This was a difficult story to write for many reasons, but as I did, I felt more love for my mom than I ever have. I’m glad this spoke to you.❤️
Yes, your mother’s pure sweetness was fully present, alive in the rich details you shared. My mother passed more than ten years ago and I am still trying to understand her beyond the suffering she endured. It’s the least I owe her. I tried to write about this last Mother’s Day (my first week on Substack!) I don’t know if you saw the piece- A Dream of Mothers, a reflection perhaps about being “not good enough”. This Mother’s Day, I found it difficult to write anything. https://sharonhom.substack.com/p/a-dream-of-mothers?r=2fluad
‘Too good.’ So much of this resonates, Mary, the saved unboxed presents, even down to the bags of ‘one leg good’ or ‘almost good’ tights. Mum’s inability to part with things, yet her reluctance to use ‘the good’ irritated me so much while she was alive, but more than three years after her death, there are treasures to be found in both the memories and in what she kept.
So pleased you’ve shared these complex memories of your own ‘waste not, want not,’ mother and the legacy it leaves.
Also struck by the rifts and pressures different beliefs can cause within families.
Wendy, thank you. There were real challenges in the relationship. So many were generational, and some the result of extreme privation. The religious issues had a deeper impact than others did. But I feel a great deal of tenderness towards her now. And that is a gift, her legacy.
bro;;iant. thank you. you've captured the complexity, the wound, the grief and the longing of her life, the jealousy the limitations of her earnest faith, and your having enough distance to begin a reconciliation with growing up with her and how you understand her now.
Nancy, thank you for sharing your generous remarks. I’m deeply honored. I cherish her memory, and the years have given me an understanding of how complex relationships are the richest ones. She gave me so much to be grateful for.
I wept tears of laughter over your Mum's stockings, what a picture that painted.
And tears of sadness thinking of my children coping with all the all the strange things I have kept over the years ( including their teeth).
I am currently going through boxes of old photographs , most of which are snaps of scenery of places long forgotten. I will be strong and get rid of them!!!
Jenny, I’m so glad this story touched you. The pantyhose said so much about who she was. And the labels, stitched onto thin plastic bags, and tissue paper. I look forward to seeing my kids (ha! Who knows what I might “see”) finding the teeth. But there are definitely some things I need to protect them from. Thank you for sharing your story.
Mary, I thought of you last night, missing your voice. And here you are with this gift of an essay, a hard-won tribute to your self-denying mother and the confounding love between you. She was not about to waste those pantyhose with one good leg. And you know what they say about writers: Nothing is wasted. You are her daughter. It couldn’t be otherwise.
Nothing is wasted, Rona! The memory of finding those pantyhose is one I reach for, not for the specifics but for what it taught me about love and privation and her profound generosity. We are definitely our mothers’ daughters.
Too Good. My nana kept things “For Best”, which resulted in her doing the same as your mum. My mother does to a certain extent, but at 87 she now wears her nice things when she goes out. Almost all her good jewelry and some money she’d been saving for “a rainy day” was stolen last summer, when thieves broke in while she and my father were out grocery shopping. I could kill those thieves. My parents aren’t wealthy, and my mother cried about not being able to pass those trinkets down to her grandchildren. Mary, this made me gasp out loud on several occasions. What a beautiful piece. Oh! And i need to send you a copy of my poetry book! Remember I told you last year I would send you one, and one to your daughter too! DM me your address please ❤️🤗
Francesca, how terrible that this happened. I’m shocked at the brazenness and the cruelty of those who steal. They take far more than our money and possessions. Thank you for your generous comments about my writing. I’m excited to read your book, and honored to receive it. I’ll be in touch with you soon.
We were particularly sad because they took things like my grandmother’s wedding ring, and all the medals my father won when he swam for Italy when he was young. Things with so much emotional value. And they made a huge mess in the house, sprayed everywhere with some weird sticky paste so that their fingerprints couldn’t be taken. A real violation. But thank goodness they were both out of the house, because if either one of them had been home alone it would be have been a lot worse.
Oh Mary, you never disappoint. Never. You tell us everything we need to know. So beautiful. The mother/daughter dynamic is so ripe for storytelling. There is so much nuance in the small, telling details of the relationship that go unnoticed to the casual observer.
I think this is the first year since I started writing fifteen years ago that I did not write something about my mom on Mother's Day. I’m not sure why. But your words give me pause and hope and inspiration to dig a little deeper about the woman she was and not through the filter of us, but more about her. I hope that makes sense. Anyway, thank you for sharing your heart. Good morning.
Maureen, I’m deeply honored. Your kindness means so much. I’ve written a great deal about my mother and our relationship over the years, but had to pull back for a long time, because I didn’t feel I was getting to the heart of it. Sometimes, that’s what is needed. I hope you continue to investigate the complexities of this topic. It is so rich, and ultimately rewarding. Good morning to you too.
This broke my heart a little. How often do we think things in our lives are “too good” for us? I remember the two separate legs pantyhose trick. Your kindness toward a difficult mother resonates.
It’s so true, isn’t it? That refrain of, It’s too good, I don’t deserve this, resonates throughout our lives. It applies to material things and to the opportunities life presents us that we shy away from. I’m thankful for the perspective the years following my mother’s death has given me. And glad that we were able to connect lovingly while she was alive.
I've always found the topic of worth and its relation to Christ/Christianity/religion interesting. As a former pastor's kid, the discussion of worth was confusing, often times contradictory, depending on the church, congregation, etc. (My father "tried" a laundry list of denominations throughout my upbringing.) My heart aches with yours as you went through her things, categorized ever-so-concretely by condition, and I find it heartwarming how you recognize the good in her--even with the bad and/or sad--and that's what you take home, that's what you guard in your heart. I understand this full spectrum of emotion all too well. Thanks again for another really stunning essay, Mary.
Katrina, I’m deeply honored. It was always a conundrum, wasn’t it? The radical acceptance of Jesus, who saw the human worth in everyone, but the many injunctions to act and believe in a certain way. Then moving to another denomination or community, where things were upended. So confusing. It’s taken me a long time to understand the meaning of my mother’s behaviors. To try to go deeply into the conflicts between her genuine love for her family and her beliefs.
I'm sure I'll continue to unpack as I journey, but I have started to land in a place of compassion. It's not easy, but life isn't meant to be--is it? Thank you for sharing all that you have here. There are so many of us who can relate.
Oh my. So sad. This must have been hard to write. But you did it. That matters too.
Thank you for sharing this. (My mother had many things in common with yours, and I know how painful it is.)
Janet, I think mother/daughter relationships are more complicated than not. My mom’s been gone for a long time, and my feelings toward her have softened quite a bit. I see the pain that drove her, but also the love. Thank you for your kind words.
I agree and in fact yesterday I reposted something I wrote about my mom 16 years ago (when she had already been gone for nearly twenty years). So, yeah, it's complicated and it all takes time. Here's the post (I hope it is not out of line to share the link here. Just want to make it easier to find for you or anyone else who might want to read it.) https://janethulstrand.substack.com/p/people-i-have-known-00b
Oh this broke my heart in so many ways, Mary, but it also made me realize how much you recognized the “almosts” and “toos”and discarded/rejected them in your own parenting and in your own life. That “one leg good” speaks volumes … oh to be her. Oh to be you! Hugs, my friend. I am so grateful for your articulation, your ability to share such visceral details and histories with such ease, and your beautiful rendering of this messy middle, making it almost elegant in its nuanced complexities.
Mansi, thank you. I’m glad that this spoke to you. My mother’s legacy is one of resilience. I learned how to survive under some bleak conditions, not in optimal ways, but circuitously. I’m still learning. Time is a gift. I would not have been able to write this essay even a year ago. Much love to you.
Time is a gift, for sure, as I am learning too. Hugs!
Mary, Such a beautiful sad piece, especially on Mother’s Day. Our mothers leave so many legacies — often stored away, surfacing in their own time. You have so movingly shared your unwrapping of these discoveries and memories ♥️
Thank you, Sharon. I have to say that the bags of pantyhose were unexpected. And “good or almost” is still a puzzle. But one of the gifts of surviving the loss of one’s parents is the ability to see the richness of their lives, and the mystery. My mother had such sweetness in her. I hope that came through in this piece.
It does, you know.
As someone who also had a complicated relationship with her own mother (who has been gone for 11 years now) I can relate to a LOT of what you wrote.
This made me cry.
Monica, my condolences. This was a difficult story to write for many reasons, but as I did, I felt more love for my mom than I ever have. I’m glad this spoke to you.❤️
Yes, your mother’s pure sweetness was fully present, alive in the rich details you shared. My mother passed more than ten years ago and I am still trying to understand her beyond the suffering she endured. It’s the least I owe her. I tried to write about this last Mother’s Day (my first week on Substack!) I don’t know if you saw the piece- A Dream of Mothers, a reflection perhaps about being “not good enough”. This Mother’s Day, I found it difficult to write anything. https://sharonhom.substack.com/p/a-dream-of-mothers?r=2fluad
Mary, of course you read it at the time 🤦🏻♀️. and posted a kind supportive comment🙏♥️ I am alarmingly losing my memory.
‘Too good.’ So much of this resonates, Mary, the saved unboxed presents, even down to the bags of ‘one leg good’ or ‘almost good’ tights. Mum’s inability to part with things, yet her reluctance to use ‘the good’ irritated me so much while she was alive, but more than three years after her death, there are treasures to be found in both the memories and in what she kept.
So pleased you’ve shared these complex memories of your own ‘waste not, want not,’ mother and the legacy it leaves.
Also struck by the rifts and pressures different beliefs can cause within families.
Wendy, thank you. There were real challenges in the relationship. So many were generational, and some the result of extreme privation. The religious issues had a deeper impact than others did. But I feel a great deal of tenderness towards her now. And that is a gift, her legacy.
bro;;iant. thank you. you've captured the complexity, the wound, the grief and the longing of her life, the jealousy the limitations of her earnest faith, and your having enough distance to begin a reconciliation with growing up with her and how you understand her now.
Nancy, thank you for sharing your generous remarks. I’m deeply honored. I cherish her memory, and the years have given me an understanding of how complex relationships are the richest ones. She gave me so much to be grateful for.
As usual , I simply love your story telling.
I wept tears of laughter over your Mum's stockings, what a picture that painted.
And tears of sadness thinking of my children coping with all the all the strange things I have kept over the years ( including their teeth).
I am currently going through boxes of old photographs , most of which are snaps of scenery of places long forgotten. I will be strong and get rid of them!!!
Thank you again Mary xx
Jenny, I’m so glad this story touched you. The pantyhose said so much about who she was. And the labels, stitched onto thin plastic bags, and tissue paper. I look forward to seeing my kids (ha! Who knows what I might “see”) finding the teeth. But there are definitely some things I need to protect them from. Thank you for sharing your story.
I read this while hanging on your every word. What a beautiful, multi-layered, tender piece.
Thank you so much, Amanda. I’m honored by your kindness, and so glad this spoke to you.
Mary, I thought of you last night, missing your voice. And here you are with this gift of an essay, a hard-won tribute to your self-denying mother and the confounding love between you. She was not about to waste those pantyhose with one good leg. And you know what they say about writers: Nothing is wasted. You are her daughter. It couldn’t be otherwise.
Nothing is wasted, Rona! The memory of finding those pantyhose is one I reach for, not for the specifics but for what it taught me about love and privation and her profound generosity. We are definitely our mothers’ daughters.
We are haunted sometimes, aren't we--regardless of the love. Wishing you gentle landings.
Thank you, Liz. 🙏💛
Too Good. My nana kept things “For Best”, which resulted in her doing the same as your mum. My mother does to a certain extent, but at 87 she now wears her nice things when she goes out. Almost all her good jewelry and some money she’d been saving for “a rainy day” was stolen last summer, when thieves broke in while she and my father were out grocery shopping. I could kill those thieves. My parents aren’t wealthy, and my mother cried about not being able to pass those trinkets down to her grandchildren. Mary, this made me gasp out loud on several occasions. What a beautiful piece. Oh! And i need to send you a copy of my poetry book! Remember I told you last year I would send you one, and one to your daughter too! DM me your address please ❤️🤗
Francesca, how terrible that this happened. I’m shocked at the brazenness and the cruelty of those who steal. They take far more than our money and possessions. Thank you for your generous comments about my writing. I’m excited to read your book, and honored to receive it. I’ll be in touch with you soon.
We were particularly sad because they took things like my grandmother’s wedding ring, and all the medals my father won when he swam for Italy when he was young. Things with so much emotional value. And they made a huge mess in the house, sprayed everywhere with some weird sticky paste so that their fingerprints couldn’t be taken. A real violation. But thank goodness they were both out of the house, because if either one of them had been home alone it would be have been a lot worse.
A huge violation, in so many ways. Thank you for sharing this painful story.
Oh Mary, you never disappoint. Never. You tell us everything we need to know. So beautiful. The mother/daughter dynamic is so ripe for storytelling. There is so much nuance in the small, telling details of the relationship that go unnoticed to the casual observer.
I think this is the first year since I started writing fifteen years ago that I did not write something about my mom on Mother's Day. I’m not sure why. But your words give me pause and hope and inspiration to dig a little deeper about the woman she was and not through the filter of us, but more about her. I hope that makes sense. Anyway, thank you for sharing your heart. Good morning.
Maureen, I’m deeply honored. Your kindness means so much. I’ve written a great deal about my mother and our relationship over the years, but had to pull back for a long time, because I didn’t feel I was getting to the heart of it. Sometimes, that’s what is needed. I hope you continue to investigate the complexities of this topic. It is so rich, and ultimately rewarding. Good morning to you too.
This broke my heart a little. How often do we think things in our lives are “too good” for us? I remember the two separate legs pantyhose trick. Your kindness toward a difficult mother resonates.
It’s so true, isn’t it? That refrain of, It’s too good, I don’t deserve this, resonates throughout our lives. It applies to material things and to the opportunities life presents us that we shy away from. I’m thankful for the perspective the years following my mother’s death has given me. And glad that we were able to connect lovingly while she was alive.
A beautiful Mother's day tribute. Thank you.
Happy Mother’s Day, Jeannie!❤️ Love you.
Mary Roblyn is a must-read.
Judith, sending love and gratitude.
And I am sending love and gratitude back to you.
What an eloquent sketch of your mother’s character! Those little labels say so much!
Thank you, Connie! Yes, they do.
I've always found the topic of worth and its relation to Christ/Christianity/religion interesting. As a former pastor's kid, the discussion of worth was confusing, often times contradictory, depending on the church, congregation, etc. (My father "tried" a laundry list of denominations throughout my upbringing.) My heart aches with yours as you went through her things, categorized ever-so-concretely by condition, and I find it heartwarming how you recognize the good in her--even with the bad and/or sad--and that's what you take home, that's what you guard in your heart. I understand this full spectrum of emotion all too well. Thanks again for another really stunning essay, Mary.
Katrina, I’m deeply honored. It was always a conundrum, wasn’t it? The radical acceptance of Jesus, who saw the human worth in everyone, but the many injunctions to act and believe in a certain way. Then moving to another denomination or community, where things were upended. So confusing. It’s taken me a long time to understand the meaning of my mother’s behaviors. To try to go deeply into the conflicts between her genuine love for her family and her beliefs.
I'm sure I'll continue to unpack as I journey, but I have started to land in a place of compassion. It's not easy, but life isn't meant to be--is it? Thank you for sharing all that you have here. There are so many of us who can relate.