My mother was incredibly intelligent, curious, charming, and cultured. She was an avid reader and an artist. She had a great sense of humor and made me laugh - at least most of the time. She was very sheltered growing up and she had an aura of innocence mixed with brilliance around her. She was sweet and quite adorable. A force of nature. Beautiful.
I don't have all the words to describe the contrast between her playful and romantic spirit and her constant disappointment of what she imagined her life would be with how it was. The irony is that she had it all but she lived her life as if she was shortchanged. It may have to do that she was spoiled rotten by her father, as for him the sun set and rose around her. No one knows what she lacked, least of all herself - but based on her point of view, the life she imagined was not the life she was living.
I remember she would usually say that she was living the last minutes of the game and while it was true, whenever she said that I felt guilty. I felt I couldn't make her happy. And I didn't have too much more time to make her happy. I also knew that no one can make someone else happy. That happiness comes from inside.
I know I gave her moments of happiness. Whether it was when I sat next to her watching endless television (which was not my favorite thing to do) or when I went out of my way to make her something she loved to eat or when I made her laugh, I know she was happy in those moments. I remember once I included "fulcrum" in the context of a story and she repeated story to her friends later and then I told her it was a dirty word. She was so innocent she had no idea about the full range of dirty words and we laughed for days about it - especially when she found out it was not a dirty word at all. I was being playful myself. When my parents traveled and I would meet them wherever they were for a few days, that made her very happy.
She became ill and I believe that it was at the end of her life that she realized what a wonderful life she had had. I remember thinking, how could her life go by so quickly. All those wonderful stories about her childhood and her youth, all gone. All those years traveling and meeting exciting people. All the laughter and all those tears. All gone. It does go away fast. Like water going through your hands.
How we see our lives is our responsibility. My mother had an idea of life which maybe could never be matched by the reality she lived. No one knew what that was because she lived a life of privilege and was surrounded by love. So whatever she wanted - that unspoken and maybe unrealistic and unattainable wish - eluded her while she was living a charmed life.
Most important, it was the life she chose to live. I learned a lot from her and her life. She's always with me. A bright light that still shines strongly today.
