Mom's Heart

I am reposting this with permission of the author, the daughter of one of our hospice patients.  She sent it to me by email earlier this week.  I appreciate her allowing me to share it here, so you can allow her Mom and her writing to inspire and bless you, too...

Life lessons come in unexpected packages. I have long known of a company Artful Ashes in Seattle. They take a small amount of your loved ones cremated remains and hand blow either a heart or an orb incorporating the ashes into the glass. They are extraordinary and there are many color choices for the glass. After much consideration, I chose a heart with brown and amber gold swirls. It reminded me of her.

The heart arrived this week and it is beautiful - and comforting to have a bit of Mother with me. After the first day, I noticed that the heart is more than just a bit asymmetrical as one side is decidedly bigger than the other. My first reaction was that while the heart is beautiful, it was not perfect. I wanted it to be perfect. In anticipation of my call to Artful Ashes, I was prepared to tell them that of course they never knew my Mom, but perfectionism was something she was known for.

I have a vivid memory of accompanying Mom on a visit with her alteration lady, Mrs. Simmons, at her home. She had a fitting room complete with a three sided tall mirror on a raised platform and all the fascinating accouterments of sewing - pincushions of all sorts, one of which was worn on her wrist, and a skirt hem marker that with a squeeze of the rubber bulb would make little horizontal lines of chalk as the client slowly turned. Fascinating stuff indeed. The purpose of this visit was to correct a back zipper in a skirt that did not lay completely flat against Mom's backside. This newly purchased suit still had the tags, but Mom absolutely would not wear it until the offending zipper was replaced with one that laid properly. In my child's mind, and perhaps in Mrs. Simmons' as well, was the thought - who cares, the jacket covers it! I can still see Mom on that raised platform in her stiletto heels patiently saying to Mrs. Simmons, "It simply does not lay right." It was not perfect.  Mother struggled with this idea that all had to be perfect for most all of her adult life. A notion that also dovetailed with the "I'll be happy when . . . " issue.

So as I gazed at this imperfect, asymmetrical heart I thought that Mom simply would not want this to be how a part of her spent her eternity - in this decidedly one sided heart. And then I began to think. I thought about how Mom was in the last few years and I started to form this realization that she definitely had two sides to her heart. Almost to the very end, Mother could be demanding, petulant, and critical. She could make you wish you were anywhere else on the planet rather than have to deal with her! But more and more in those last few years, that side of her heart got smaller and smaller, and the side of her heart that was kind, generous, and loving got larger and larger.

Daughters inherit many things from their Mothers and both my sister and me inherited this desire for perfectionism - we struggle with it even now. When I would call Mom with some complaint that something I had attempted to do did not come out as I wanted - that it wasn't perfect - she would say, "Oh honey, I'm sure it's beautiful. It will be okay just like it is." And then I thought - she was always like this with us - loving us in spite of our imperfections.

This heart, that I will look at every day for the remainder of my life on this earth, will be a reminder to me to let the good side of my heart always be bigger than the other. So Mom, thank you for the life lesson. You continue to inspire me.