The Dynasty

Into the world as five of six I came. Three brothers and one sister, our family was not quite complete. Later you added number six. Another girl. Three and three and no more!

Our tiny house, bursting open, was in need of replacement. Dad decided you deserved a shiny new house “of your own,” and moved us all out of the city. Your house was built on a plot of land close to your sibling family.

A farmer's daughter, you were back in the country. I wondered, did you miss city life?

Spending twenty-four years at home raising a family is no easy feat. When we stayed home from school sick, you were there. If we were in pain and needing help, you were there. When we grew and expanded our family, you were there.

But, not for us girls and when we asked why, your answer was completely unexpected. “I knew I had taught you girls all you needed to know to take care of a baby. I did not know how your sister-in-laws would cope. I trusted you!”

As a working woman and a gramma you excelled. Delving into the world of retail management, advertising no less, you tried new things and inspired us all to follow suit.

You watched us girls critically, as women, moms and wives, but rarely did you interfere. You gave us a home that was always a place we could return to. We all did at some point, in our adult years.

It has been said that you loved us all equally and unconditionally. I am not sure I felt that with certainty.

When Dad died, a large part of you went with him. For decades you were part of the infamous team “Rose and Frank.” Now, your stand-alone relationships, your mentorship and your friendship, was appreciated by most, yet somehow felt missing in my life.

You did all of the right things. However, our bond did not seem to me to be the same.

I had always thought that Dad was the center of our family. With him gone, I realized otherwise. Our world had always revolved around you Mom.

At family gatherings, now seated in a chair as mobility became an issue, we all fluttered around you. These occasions were loud, lively and loving. You taught us the rules of family life. Family first!

It took me a very long time to realize that this meant my family first. In my family you were an important elder, Nanny, the great gramma of my baby grandson, first to make you a great grandmother. He remembers you, though his brother does not.

On your dying day, I tried to give you permission to go.

You asked me, “am I dying?” and I wanted you to know the truth. You deserve the truth. I wanted you to understand that it was okay to leave us. It was important that you felt free to go back to being a part of your pair.

But I could not. I was stopped.

Stopped by your son, in his arrogant way. Thinking he knew and controlled everything. “No,” he said. “Do not tell her yes. Do not tell her she is dying, do not tell her it is okay to die!”

At that moment Mom, reality hit me square in the face. The boys would be in control now. The lawyer, their leader. Their decisions would be master of all.

But not in my wee family. No, not in mine!

I miss you in a way that is hard to explain. I feel like a flower missing a pedal. You should be here. Maybe I am a house, missing its foundation. You should be here. We are incomplete without you.

As orphaned adults we try to make our way. We succeeded for a time. Now, like a door missing a door knob, we have no way into that space.

I have moved on from your family first, to my family first. There is little else of import.

As a mother, I am determined not to emulate what I see as your shortcomings. I worked to create and maintain a bond with your granddaughter, a bond she feels in her adult years.

My determination is to be a part of my family’s life, in their day-to-day living. To be more than a Gram who gets a visit every week or two. To be there for all three, always.

I now realize that we all get to do things in our own way, in our own time. We take parts of what we are taught, parts of what we observe and parts of what we want and we build our own family, in our own way.

Mine too, is an imperfectly perfect unit, as all things are. It too has its ups and downs, great and tragic family moments. I have stopped praying for perfection, stopped hoping things would be better. I am beginning to see imperfection, as perfection. This is the gift I know you have given me.

Regardless of my spot on our sib line.

Regardless of being your middle girl.

Regardless of the fact that I am not your baby, I am yours. I am!

The role that you continue to play in our lives is without boundaries. Daughter number one fancies herself the matriarch of your family, but that is not a position that ends with life. It is not a spot on the top of our family tree that needs to be filled. It is steadfast.

In the beginning there were two. Now, as I stop to count our number, I realize how much we have grown. The generation of your great grand kids is perhaps complete. But, in time, they too will add to your legacy.

From you came this dynasty. From your womb came it all. All the bitterness yes, but most of all, all the noisy, cheerful love.

We are all yours and yours we will always be Mom.