By Emily Umbdenstock
The more a daughter knows the details of her mother’s life…the stronger the daughter.
-Anita Diamant
This Sunday marks my first Mother’s Day since moving to Connecticut. In recent years past, my mom and I lived in the same town practically right down the road from one another, so the thought of spending our special day apart was unheard of. The two of us had an annual tradition of leisurely lunching at our favorite spot, chatting about anything and everything under the sun, no time clock to rush us. Unfortunately, this Mother’s Day, schedules do not allow for a visit to New Jersey, and I can’t help but feel an underlying sadness not to be spending the day with my mom. I began to view this Sunday in a totally different light…I mean if simply not seeing my mother this Mother’s Day is evoking such feelings of woe, what must it be like for those whose mothers are no longer here. This switch in perspective forced me to reexamine Mother’s Day; this time through the eyes of my own mom who lost my grandmother almost 44 years ago. Mother’s Day for the Motherless…what a cruel juxtaposition.
My grandmother, Betty Mary Proud Whalen, passed away from Ovarian cancer on November 21, 1979, when my mom was just 26 years old. Even now in my mid-forties, the thought of living without my mother is simply unimaginable, and it really struck me just how very young my mom was when she experienced this profound loss. What’s more, exactly five months to the day that my mother became a mother herself, she was forced to say goodbye to her own mom. What a strangely tragic dichotomy: losing a mother and becoming a mother at the very same time.
My mom often tells me stories from my infancy; her excitement at having a daughter dueling with her desperation to shield me from her grief, not wanting to impart any of her despair onto me. She recalls many nights rocking me to sleep, holding me tight as tears fell silently down her face refusing to allow her sadness to penetrate our bond. I think back to myself at 26, footloose and fancy-free, and I am pained by the heaviness and responsibility that must have consumed my mom at that time in her life. And I remember when I had my first child…I had no idea what I was doing, but, it didn’t really matter…my mom was there to hold my hand and guide me. The truth is I would have been lost and scared without her, alone in my new role; directionless if you will.
I seek solace in knowing that it gave my mother and grandmother great comfort to welcome me into the world before they were forced to say goodbye. Three generations of women together is a powerful thing, however brief the time might have been. My favorite baby picture is one in which my grandmother is holding me on her lap, the expression on her face difficult to discern. Was it one of happiness or sadness; I will never really know. Perhaps, it was a bit of both. Shortly before she passed, my grandmother gave my mom a newspaper clipping of a poem entitled, Daughter, Daughter by Marjorie Holmes along with a handwritten note that read, “My Darling Jessica…This says so well some of the things I feel and think-I wanted you to have it. Save it for your little girl, darling. I love you, Your Mummy”. This poem is now one of my very favorites, and I will share it with my daughter as she grows.
My grandmother’s memory continues to live on through my mother, and I like to believe that she that she is watching over me proud of the mother I have become. So, as I celebrate this Sunday with my own little family, I will be grateful that I can call my mom afterwards and tell her all about it; as some are not so lucky. When we celebrate all of the amazing mothers in our lives this May 12th, let’s also be mindful to remember that, for some, this day is one of mixed emotions. Your favorite day might be another’s loneliest, so be gentle with your fellow neighbors for everyone is fighting a private battle of which we often know nothing about. After all, we may not have it all together, but together we most certainly have it all.
Emily Umbdenstock received her BA in from Georgetown and her MA in Health and Behavior Studies from Columbia University Teachers College. When she isn’t “momming” her three children, she works as a freelance copy editor and an essay editor for college applications. A New Jersey native, Emily relocated to New Canaan in June.
