Memories of Mom

Last week, I went to the memorial service for the mother of one of my friends. Although I did not know her mother other than to say that I saw her from time to time when she came to watch her granddaughter at cheer practices knowing that this was someone's mother and how profound the loss is of that person in your life I nevertheless felt compelled to show up and give my friend a hug that hopefully said I know that this hurts.

When I was 25, I lost my own mother. She was only 59 and it was not something I expected..she was relatively young and was not suffering from any terminal illness. Her own mother was 85 and based on the odds I expected to lose my grandmother first. A year earlier in May I had graduated law school and both my grandma and mother had come to Boston for this event. Never being much for air travel, although my mother was once a stewardess for Delta Airlines, they decided to travel by train all the way from Florida. When they left for home after staying for a few days in Connecticut where we had just moved, I was busy studying to take the bar so my husband drove them to the train station in New Haven. I had been attending a bar review class at Yale and rushed over to see them off. When I got there, my grandma was already seated on the train so I went on the train to say good-bye thinking she's really getting old and was very forgetful so I may not see her alive again. As the train pulled away my mother stood at the pass through between the cars which was open waving to me. A year later when I unexpectedly was called down to Florida to a hospital where she was in ICU, I never expected that this would be in many ways my final goodbye to her.

The loss of my mother came at a very hard time. I had recently discovered I was pregnant with my first child and a short time before I had told her that she was going to be a grandmother. I wanted so much to move back to Florida yet our careers had kept us in New England which I really did not care for. When I got the call from my grandmother on a Sunday night that my mom was sick and in the hospital, I made plans the next day to fly down to Florida. This was a means of travel that I too had come to hate but being an only child and knowing that my grandmother was in no shape to see to things I flew alone the next morning. My mother's condition was extremely critical and this had not been made apparent to me until I saw her for myself. Three days later she required life support and my husband flew down to join me. Those 3 days were awful, she had suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and had very limited consciousness. Seeing my mother who hated doctors hooked up to tubes and machines was terrifying for me. I could not bear to be in the room with her and even when I made the decision to remove her from life support I could not be there. I reasoned that my mother would never have wanted for me to suffer this and although I still do believe that she understood in the time afterward, I felt like a coward. Nine years later when it was my grandmother's time and after that my father's time I was no longer the fearful young adult but had become stronger and was able to be with them during this time.

Mom's funeral and planning it brought a measure of peace and healing as my mother was a confirmed Christian and I truly believed that she was at peace. I knew that she wanted to be buried in Memphis where she had grown up as a child and had many happy memories. The cemetery where she was buried next to her father, grandparents, aunt and uncle had a beautiful angel adorning it which had been carved by her maternal grandfather as this had been his occupation as a monument maker. At the funeral home, I so wanted to be able to look upon my mother and see her minus tubes and machines and see that she was at peace but I found that I was unable upon walking into the viewing room and seeing her to do that either. Again for years I would feel like a coward in this respect. The service was beautiful. I cried throughout. I chose the readings and insisted on having an organist since my mother was a very accomplished musician. I still cry when I hear Amazing Grace because it reminds me of this.

Over the next years I was filled with grief. It seemed so unfair that she never saw her first grandchild or held him. On the day Will was born as I lay in the hospital and was left in the room alone with just the doctors to receive an epidural, I envisioned the way my mother held my hand when I had to get a shot or give blood. Although herself phobic about doctors, she had chosen the most wonderful pediatrician to care for me and I had virtually no fear as she has talked me through my own apprehension on a number of occasions. In the months after becoming a mother, I missed her. I missed the way I knew that she would have showered my son with adorable things to wear and the way she would have spoiled him just as she had once spoiled me. I missed being able to say to her when did I do this as a baby and what did it feel like being a Mom? I still today feel cheated that I was not able to share Motherhood with her because it has given me wisdom and respect for her that I never had while she was alive.

So I find myself blogging now not just to tell about the circumstances surrounding her death but to say those things that I felt I did not have the chance to say to thank her and also to share what I have learned about her even though she has been gone for 20 years as of April the 12th. My Mom was my best cheerleader. I knew that but as with too much in this life we do not realize what we have until it is gone. In the weeks before I graduated law school in 1989, I was driving on a highway in New Hampshire working for a law firm and feeling proud to have been a able to complete such an accomplishment. I was listening to the radio and singing Bette Middler's "The Wind Beneath My Wings." I thought this is my Mom and I should really write her a letter thanking her for always believing in me and give it to her at my graduation. To add to my regrets, I never did this....

I can't remember exactly what I would have said then but even now I still can think of many things to say about my mom and am going to take this space to do just that since I can. My mom, Mary Vincent Taylor Steiner, was born a true Southerner in Memphis, Tennessee. She was an only child and born to 2 intelligent and successful parents who doted on her. She was beautiful and talented. She gave an entire piano recital at 16 and played everything memorized including many complicated classical pieces. She had an eye for fashion and designed a number of beautiful antebellum style dresses which she wore to formals in college. She had a memory for things in great detail and could even remember the name of every child in her 1st grade class! I believe that the happiest days of her life were as a child growing up in Memphis and probably during college and when she lived in Memphis before she was married at 23. In 1948, she went to school at Chevy Chase Jr College in Washington, DC. It was during this time that she met my father and her time there was as I know many of us long since done with college say probably some of the best of her life. She went to parties at the Embassies and attended the inauguration and inaugural ball for Harry Truman... not too shabby.

In 1950, she graduated Junior college and went to The University of Alabama as a junior. Apparently, she did not really like it there so she returned to Memphis and earned her degree at Memphis State. In 1953, she and my father were married. Although I do believe that they loved one another and had enjoyed many good times together during college, there was too much fundamentally different and in today’s world, they no doubt would probably have not stayed together for 23 years. My mother was a Methodist, my father a Catholic and although she tried converting, it was not for her.

They moved to Lancaster, Ohio, a small town near Columbus where my father was born and raised. It was very far away from Memphis and her family and as I learned myself when at twenty one, I moved to New Hampshire just after college with my own husband probably very lonely for her. I now understand with a wisdom I did not then that coming from college and parties and a place where you have lived a long time near friends and family is very isolating. I know I was often depressed during my time living there but unlike my mom I was embarking on a professional career. My mom as most women in her day was a homemaker. She had no friends outside of those she came to know through my father and no family close by. I know that she never enjoyed a close relationship with my father's family although they lived just a few blocks away. She never felt that she quite fit in. Also adding to this loneliness was that for the first 11 years of my parent's marriage, there were no children again being quite different from most everyone else of that day and not working outside the home she must have been terribly sad.

In 1964 when I was born I can imagine that my mother felt a new sense of joy which I imagine was increased by my being a little girl that she could dress and fuss with like a doll. Even in the midst of this, more suffering was not far behind. Her father died tragically the following year when I was just 6 months old. Again something very similar to what I experienced, she was a new mom, an only child herself and suddenly was called upon to be by her mother's side through what must have been a very difficult time.

A little sunshine would come into her life the following year when we moved to the Sunshine State. Warmer weather, a new home and a new baby girl must have been a boost to her. Nevertheless, I can also imagine having just lost her dad she would have been grieving. Later that same year before I was a year old, my father's mother died and it was back to Ohio for her funeral. Although she was never close to her mother-in-law, I know that just being part of all of the ritual associated with a funeral can stir up memories which having just buried her own father a little over 3 months before would have still been fresh in her mind.

So just as like me when my son was born, my mother was experiencing being a new mom but was still in the midst of a lot of sadness. I think those early years in Florida were better for my mom although my father traveled a lot and she was again alone a lot. I know as a young mother I was happy taking my kids to preschool and making friends with other moms. My mom saw to it that I had so many blessings during this time. She carefully chose my schools, gave me beautiful clothes to wear and more toys than I'm sure I needed but as an only child who had finally arrived in a home where 2 people had waited 11 years to be parents I guess it was expected. She took me to dance classes and I went to Sunday school at her church and sang in the choir. We spent many weekends as a family at Ft Desota Park enjoying the warmth and beauty of the beach. My grandmother, my mom's mother, came and stayed for months with us at a time and I know this must have been a relief for her to enjoy being with family.

My parent's marriage continued to deteriorate with each passing year. Divorce was less common so they stayed together but the arguments got louder and louder. My father lost his job and had some serious health problems and ultimately started his own business. What had been a prosperous start in Florida was deteriorating as well. My father was a very charismatic and fun loving guy. He had always been a favorite of his nephews and nieces and he and I became very close. As an only child and a girl, I was Daddy's girl something I imagine too became a source for unhappiness for my mom as a tug of war ensued.

For Christmas when I was seven, my father saw to it that Santa brought me a pony. This became a new point of closeness for me and my dad and in the years ahead we spent countless hours with this hobby ultimately having 4 horses, showing them, going on trail rides and spending a lot of time at the stables where we boarded them. This was a passion my mother did not share although I know she never missed one of my shows and always took me to my riding lessons.

Teenage years I do not believe are kind to any parent. As I moved into Middle School, I was still very close to my father and arguing more with my mother. I think in the light of what has been learned in the last 20 years regarding mental health that my mother suffered significantly from depression. None of this was good for her or our relationship. My parents marriage finally reached a point where my dad felt compelled to leave and I moved out with him when I was just shy of 13. Again, with the wisdom of years, I cannot imagine what she suffered in terms of loneliness at this time. My visits with her usually ended in arguing no doubt fueled by moving further into teenage years and my friends becoming a bigger priority.

Yet through all of this. My mother loved me with a love that I as a mother myself who has seen and experienced too that your children particularly as teenagers can cause you a lot of pain can now understand. She still drove me to and from all my activities and never missed a game or a recital. I could always count on her. When I did not study hard enough as a Freshman in high school and was devastated by getting removed from the cheer squad, she was there. The next year I wanted to escape and talked my dad into sending me to boarding school. I went and through it all my mom and I talked on the phone. I think I started to grow up a lot that year. I missed my family and friends and wanted to go back to live at home. My mother welcomed me with open arms. I think this was a big turning point in our relationship and my father who thought that returning was a mistake totally rejected me. I moved in to live with my mother and grandma and for almost an entire year while my father refused to speak to me or have anything to do with me.

Although my mother loved me enough to welcome me back, I was in the midst of being a selfish teenager. Just as my own teens now worry me, I know I caused my mother many sleepless nights while she worried about the choices I was making and the company I was keeping. This of course caused arguments and I finally ended up moving back to live with my dad until he too became fed up with raising a teen and once again I was welcomed back my my mother. By the end of my junior year, I began to grow up a little more. I was looking toward colleges and was making better choices regarding my friends. Things were becoming more peaceful with my mom.

In the years after my mother and father separated, my mother took a job working at Iveys, a department store, which later became Dillards. She never received any financial support from my dad so I guess she went to work to feel like she could have something of her own even though my grandma was very comfortable and could easily and did ultimately support her financially. She was about 50 then and the hours were long and she hated standing all day on her feet. She hadn't worked out side the home since her days working for Delta before she married my dad. I always believed that she was capable of so much more as she was very bright but since I now know how much she must have suffered from being depressed I understand that this may have been the easiest option under the circumstances.

In 1982, I graduated high school and went away to college. My mom supported me during this process. She took me on a college trip and helped me pack and prepare for college. Mostly she loved me unconditionally. When I went away to college, we talked by phone several times per week. She became an ardent Gator fan! She was proud of my accomplishments especially my good grades but she never made too much out of my screw-ups gradewise. She encouraged me to apply to law school. She gave me the freedom to do my own things choose my own apartments all the while supporting me. In 1984 when the Gators won their 1st SEC championship, she was planning on sending me and my future husband, Bill, to the Sugar Bowl. Unfortunately NCAA sanctions ruined that trip.

I remember my times back in St Pete with my Mom during college to be good times. We enjoyed eating out together, visiting together and went to a family wedding in North Carolina. All good memories. She warmly welcomed Bill as my boyfriend and when we became engaged was of course involved with planning my wedding. She chose the place, helped with the flowers, suggested some of the music including a selection that had been played at both her and my grandmother's wedding, "On this Day O Beautiful Mother." She used to say she was going to write a book titled this... She was truly beautiful on that day. She wanted it to be perfect for her only child. This was 1986 and I had no idea that she would be gone less than 4 years later.

I would move away right after I was married. Bill and I came back a year later for a visit for a week. We did not visit again until Spring 1989. As I said earlier she was not an airplane person. She was also dealing with my grandmother's early stages of Alzheimhers so they did not travel to visit us. During this time, we talked quite often and we grew closer in these conversations. When I finally realized my big dream to earn my law degree she had always been the one pulling for me believing that I could do anything and that what I did was wonderful. She was always so proud of me and this confidence in me is something I miss most of all in my life. I do not think I am anyway as good a cheerleader for my kids although I think I do OK. Sometimes my husband will remind me that she would have been so proud...Even when I quit law just over a year after graduating and decided to be a full time Mom, I know she would have been proud.

Even in her death, she gave me special gifts. Most notably that life does not last forever and what matters most is what you do and say and give to those whom you love like no others, your children. So last week as I heard words about another mother one I did not know, I knew that I was going to blog about my own mother. I wish I could have as I did at my grandmother's funeral write and read something to those in attendance but I have grown in wisdom since that day and I would not be able to say what I can today because in my own motherhood I have learned so much and seen into the soul of someone who though she suffered was a beautiful person. And although I have not added this anywhere yet, I do believe that my own faith was nurtured so much by watching her and sometimes hearing her words. Two memories are significant in this respect. First the image of her each night reading a daily devotional from her favorite Bible, The Living Bible. Second, was when I called her at 15 from a ski trip to Colorado. Upon arriving and seeing the snow capped mountains, I felt so strongly the power and majesty of God. When I called her later that day, she said, "Victoria, when you see those mountains you have to know there is a God." I had not said anything to her about my thoughts but somehow she was able to articulate just what I was thinking and feeling that day.

I recently realized that I had known my husband for 27 years. That is 2 longer than I had my own mother. For a while the anniversary of her death was very painful. Now, many times the date will pass without me noticing. I wanted to put these thoughts down as a sort of Thank you to my Mom and I miss you Mother. Perhaps someone reading this will share some of these thoughts. Most importantly, I believe that my mother is in a place of peace and joy and I hope that she is able to feel the gratitude that I feel for all that she gave me. I hope that she is able to forgive me for not loving and appreciating all that she gave and sacrified for me and time especially as a teenager being unloving. I believe however that she would understand that time and wisdom has given me the perspective and spirit to say what I have said. I still feel her spirit with me and I look forward to that day when hopefully someday I will again be her presence and at a point where I will even be able to more fully love and appreciate her than ever possible in this life.