Day Twenty-Eight: Here's Looking at You.

Today (well I'm an hour or so late) would have been my Mother's 68th Birthday. She died ten years ago after a relatively short battle with a pretty rare disease. Earlier in the day I posted a Facebook status acknowledging her birthday and a friend commented that maybe she's watching over me. It was meant to be comforting, but it's not. The last think I ever wanted Mom to know when she was alive, was everything I was doing that she didn't know about. The idea of her being dead and seeing all, including the things that no one else gets to see is frightening indeed.

We all have certain shameful little secrets, feelings, or habits that we'd like to keep private. The thought that someone might know all, even a dead someone, is perplexing. There are embarrassments, white lies, moral transgressions, and even just stupid mistakes that no one really needs to know about, least of all one's Mom. I think there were a lot of things my Mom knew she'd be better of not knowing about me. I am certainly the black sheep of the family and the one with the biggest mouth, loudest voice, and strongest opinions. She knew that and I think she even marveled at it a bit, wondering where that came from in someone raised by her. I can say "no" like nobody's business, but Mom never could.

There's plenty about us that was alike too, we're both empathetic to an almost self-destructive degree and  if you came to our doors selling anything for charity we'd buy it just because you asked. There were many similarities amongst the differences, but even so, I know that for the most part my choices are better left unknown to the woman that raised and loved me from the time I was six weeks old. She deserved to believe I was happy and doing well and though I don't think I ever fooled her that much, I certainly wouldn't now want to make it any worse.

I know my life is a constant two steps forward, one step back march and I've screwed up the only relationship that ever really meant anything to me. She would have loved my husband. She'd have loved him in every way and the fact that I screwed that up, the only truly good thing to ever come to me without a struggle would have killed her. So I'm glad in some ways that she's not here or hopefully there to see it. There is some good yes, but some screw-ups in life you just can't make up for, sometimes they are really rock bottom. I am going to climb back out, but I'll never erase the bad or the damage I've caused others. I just hope she knew when she could watch that I loved her and that one day I'd get it right, or is right as a screw-up like me can get it.

Happy Birthday, Mom. Here's looking at you.