I will be publishing a collection of writing about time I spent with my mother toward the end of her life when she was dying of dementia and depression. There were so many instances where I could see her mother in her - that is, my grandmother in my mother - and now my mother in me, not so much in terms of personality - we're very different that way, thank goodness - but in mannerisms and sounds. For instance, the way I sniff sounds just like the way my mom sniffed, and it just blows my mind how she is a part of me in this way and keeps reappearing. And of course she has left footprints all over my emotional landscape too, as all parents will. I don't think there is any right way to write about parents because they are human, and humans change all the time, even after death.
Thank you for that, Polly. My husband wanted to know how I feel now. I've worked on that piece for years, and tried so many approaches. I could never get it "right." Your response helps me feel that perhaps there isn't a "right."
I will be publishing a collection of writing about time I spent with my mother toward the end of her life when she was dying of dementia and depression. There were so many instances where I could see her mother in her - that is, my grandmother in my mother - and now my mother in me, not so much in terms of personality - we're very different that way, thank goodness - but in mannerisms and sounds. For instance, the way I sniff sounds just like the way my mom sniffed, and it just blows my mind how she is a part of me in this way and keeps reappearing. And of course she has left footprints all over my emotional landscape too, as all parents will. I don't think there is any right way to write about parents because they are human, and humans change all the time, even after death.
Also, where are you publishing your collection and when?
That is beautiful,Polly. Yes. Humans change all the time, even after death. Brilliant.
Parents still appear and stay with us long after they are gone, and feelings about them can be just as confounding as they ways they keep visiting.
Thank you for that, Polly. My husband wanted to know how I feel now. I've worked on that piece for years, and tried so many approaches. I could never get it "right." Your response helps me feel that perhaps there isn't a "right."