Mum
March 22, 2006, 10:44 A.M.

When I was a teenager, I fought with my mom about everything. She had not clue one about me, and she was in rather bad shape from her bipolar disorder most of the time, so she could not be reasoned with. Our tastes were worlds apart, and we never agreed on anything. We hated each other.

That's not too unusual, I guess. Mom was a sore disappointment. And it could have made me miserable.

But I was lucky. I had Mum.

Mum was my best friend's mother. But she was more to me than I can even begin to say. First of all, she thought I was marvelous. We both loved to read, especially mysteries. Neither of us believed in fancy clothes, but we both believed in quality. We were happiest in jeans, New Balance shoes, and a shirt from L.L.Bean. Though when we did choose to get dolled up, we usually knocked everyone flat.

We loved live theater and imported teas and unabridged dictionaries and good cheese and public television and linguini with clam sauce and outrageous puns. We loved Autumn and "bread with character" and fires in the fireplace and proper English and French Impressionists and Italian Opera and Japanese steakhouses. We loved dogs and cats and horses--better than most people.

She taught me how to properly iron a shirt, how to roast a goose, and that "one never pays retail if one can avoid it". She taught me how to ride a horse and to muck out a stall. She taught me grace and Emily Post etiquette and a quiet sense of good taste.

She taught me that I was a person of value in this world.

We could talk for hours over endless cups of tea. She always listened. She let me cry when I needed to, nursed me when I was sick or hurt, shared my joy when things went right. She knew I was in love with Spouse before I did. She didn't freak when I talked about my theories of philosophy, religion or politics. In fact, she if she thought my arguments had merit, she was quick to tell me so.

She'd crack my stiff back for me. She'd buy me clothes is she saw something that "would be perfect on you, my dear". She sewed me a wonderful nightgown straight out of a gothic novel, and took the trouble to track down 100% cotton lace for the trim, so it wouldn't be "scratchy". And used all-cotton double-faced flannel, to boot.

She took me into her home for an entire school year when things got to be impossible at home.
She understood me. She supported me. She loved me.
She was my Mum.

And oh, I loved her.

I just got a letter informing me that she passed away on February 27th.

No funeral, no fuss, no obituary in the paper. Just the way Mum wanted it. People who she cared about notified well after the fact.

And she wasn't big on the grieving thing. But just this once, I think I'm gonna have to disappoint her.