a letter to my mother

Mom,

...

Self-reflection is always a good thing, Mom, but too much rumination inevitably leads towards lugubrious thoughts and regret. You don't need to know how to "be a parent" to adult children. D__ and I are grown men, and we wouldn't be the people we are if not for the love and care and attention and greatness and weakness that we learned both from you and Dad. The joy about being an adult child (and likewise a parent of one) is that it frees up the relationship, allowing it to develop in whatever direction it needs to rather than having to follow the prescribed roles of a "good" parent or "good" child (whatever those things mean).

If I were you, I would practice concentrating more on your life now, on your living and enjoying your relationships now, rather than analyzing why or how they are the way they are. I love you. D__ loves you. N__ and P__ love you. Your sisters love you. C_____ loves you. You don't have to do anything to make this happen. Just be yourself, accept yourself, love yourself. It's not your job to try to make other people like or accept you. The person you already are is the one that everyone loves so much.

As far as the past goes, there's a line in a Chris Marker film that says the moments we remember are made memorable "on account of their scars." I believe this is true, and yet it is inconceivable to think of a life without memory. The term "human being" loses all comprehensibility without it, and sometimes, when we're in the grips of a sadness or depression, it's easy to forget that happy moments also leave their scars. This is what happens when we finds ourselves grasping onto some moments more than others, wanting to pick and choose which experiences are fleeting and which ones can linger. The Buddha called this tendency attachment, and our grasping inevitably leads to suffering. The answer is ultimately to surrender. Surrender to the moment. Surrender to the present. Surrender to the past. Surrender even to memory – but only insofar as it allows us to connect to a time that would otherwise be lost to us, to reunite with the fragmented parts of ourself that still need our love and compassion.


I love you, as ever,

J_____