You’re going to get a very complicated picture of my Mom, here. My childhood was hell for the most part. She was a (very functional) drug addict (there are a lot of people who will refute that. They didn’t live with her). She was violent at times (same). Erratic and unstable (same, same).
She’s also one of the women I admire most in my life.
My Mom could revive anyone and anything, like raising Lazarus from the dead.
She was brilliant and insightful and… fearless? On the surface, yes, but so many people’s fearlessness is born of their fears, much like a narcissist’s ego is born of their weakness. But she was undoubtedly courageous in the face of nearly every assault. There were no red flags about people that were big enough to keep her from trying to connect with them, extend them a hand, or simply share a moment with them.
I could write books about all the people she helped in ways ephemeral, and more concrete. My most poignant memories of her are of the times she would veer from our plans because she saw a heart in need. At the time I was always annoyed. Now I try my damndest to carry on her beautiful legacy.
She had infinitely more patience, grace, wisdom, and openness than I will ever have. I’m jaded and mistrusting and I don’t really like to let people too close to me. I’m learning and growing and want nothing more than to fill the enormous hole she left in her wake.
I fear that I’ll never come close, but it’s never stopped me from trying.
One of the things I’ve embraced from her example is to speak great truths with great love. The last years she spent working, were on a small military base mainly tasked with the production of weapons of war. An ironic job for a long-haired, pot-smoking, rabidly pacifist hippy. She had no compunction at all taking the officers on base that she worked with to task for the failings she railed against in our military. And these big, strong, uniformed men listened. With great respect and significant fondness.
When she died, they held a small memorial for her on base. Not quite the protocol for a civilian, but in spite of their differences, they cared, and they wanted to send her off with the respect she deserved.
I don’t really think in terms of my own legacy.
I’m too busy trying to grow hers.
