when it’s my time to move on and people remember me, what will they say about me?
I hope people say “Tia always tried her best.” because in all honesty that’s what I’ve done. I messed up at times, wasn’t always a good person, harbored bad feelings and thoughts but the majority of the time I really have tried to do the best I can with what I’ve got to deal with.
I’m writing my Mother’s obituary and life celebration service. I know it’s morbid but I can’t sit and do nothing. Nothing is all that we can do now. We wait and watch as Mom slowly fades away. She’s the strongest person I know so it’s going to take a while. That’s not fair to her because she isn’t savoring the end of her life. She’s suffering and no pain pill will make her death less tragic.
My Mother was born into shame. Her Mother and Father were not married and from what I gather the man she called Dad was not the man who sired her. She was sent to live with an Aunt and Uncle and knew her entire childhood that she was not one of them. Her Uncle was a cold man, his charity stopped at taking her in. But she was strong and she grew into a very smart young lady who won awards for her skills with shorthand. She was praised in all the letters from employers and teachers. She also fought a lifetime of mental illness. Untreated until she married and grew older. My childhood was one of fear. Her cold and cruel childhood damaged her and in her mental illness I became the scapegoat. She went away a lot to get shock treatment and heavy anti-depression meds and returned back to us a weakened version of herself. It happened so often my brother and I thought it was just the way it should be.
She battled cancer, she battled her personal demons, she battles on now. I can choose to hate her for what she was. I choose instead to admire her for all her battles. It is not a weak person who battles and loses. They are strong for standing up time and time again and keeping themselves in the battle. I don’t think death is her battle now, I think it is her prize. A job well done and here’s your gold pen and plaque. Her last battle is allowing herself to stop fighting. And we will watch it and when she asks me, over and over daily, “what am I going to do Tia?” I’ll keep on telling her that I do not know but we will face it together and together we can face anything in our way.
My Mother is a strong person, the strongest I know. She is a frikkin Bozo punching toy. You knock her over and she pops right back up again. I used to hate her for it but now I admire her. I know she tried her best. Her obituary will not say it completely, there’s no way to explain it all. Mom would not want me to air her linens in public. So at her service, when I stand to talk, I will start and end with “My Mother was one of the strongest people I know. She may have struggled but she never stopped fighting. She always tried to do her best”
I think that’s one of the nicest things we can say about someone. “They always tried to do their best” I hope I live up to those words someday.