Jeanne

Funny, with Shirley's death (and stirring memories of Kay's in turn), I'd been meditating about fatherhood, and what it does: but now my focus has unsurprisingly changed to motherhood, or at least my own beloved mother: she's just had a nasty fall, broken her femur in 3 places, and at her age, that's pretty serious (well, almost anything is, to be sure), and worrying.

And what can I say about her? I mean, everyone loves their mother, deserving or not, but I think few have been as lucky or blessed as I have, with my mother. For me, it feels very much like all the things I'm proud of in myself, the best parts of me, all stem from her example and her guidance, whether it's the creative spark, the moral values, the sense of fair play, or the human decency to always reach out a hand to the broken and damaged. Certainly no child of hers would ever entertain the idea that women are lesser, or second-class, or weaker than men, for so much as a second.

What can I say? I love her entirely, and miss her, always.

And when I think of some of the mothers of friends I have known, it's easy to see my luck: none of the shrewishness, wild ill-temper, manipulative headgames, or clinging possessiveness that seems to have been quite common. In fact, I can only think of two other mothers who I'd regard as highly, Anne & Marika (and of course, that's from the outside of the family circle, so very secondhand valuation).

For now, I'll just think on her, and hope the pain is moderated properly, and the care is gentle and precise. I would pray, but that seems a stretch of hypocrisy I can't really manage.