Remembering with Gratitude

A letter I wrote to my children from the hospital while “watching and waiting” with Bill.

Cincinnati, Oh 45236

July 17th, 2020

To my beloved children:

Thank you, thank you, for the help you have provided to your Dad and me over this past grueling week. Your love has shone through your actions and I am very grateful. All these hours in the hospital watching your dad sleep and wondering about what is yet to come, have given me plenty of time to reflect on my life, my choices, and the impact my decisions have had on others and particularly on you.

I’ve been looking back on my life which has been fraught with struggle and suffering. Some of the pain was due to the choice I made with the best of intentions and hopes for a happy life, when I married at 18. Some of the pain came from my overly strict parents who believed in “instant obedience” and corporal punishment; using a stick and a belt, when, as little children we were considered bold, or naughty. The nuns, too, at school beat us daily, to keep us in line. I learned to be good pretty quickly, I can tell you. Some of the pain came from being bullied for being “four eyes”, and worse, when we moved to England, for being Irish, where my accent and any mistakes I made were mocked and put down to my ethnicity, (as everyone knows Irish people are idiots). I was teased because my parents wouldn’t allow me to dress in the current styles, insisting on modesty, to the point I wasn’t even allowed to shave my legs as a teenager, and so got made fun of for that and called a gorilla at school by mean boys. Some of the pain came from being violated and abused, as you are already aware, and more came from my miscarriage. But it was not all suffering.

There has been great joy, too, in my life. Time spent with my grandparents when I was a teenager and managed to forget the responsibilities of being the oldest child for a few weeks, time spent with my great aunt Mai, Uncle Martin, and my cousins in Tuam. Time to be all by myself, once in a while, in a field with the fairies, where I built homes for them in niches in stone walls, returning the next day to see if they had moved the sticks and stones and flower petals I used for furniture. Time spent writing letters to the myriad pen pals I had around the world, and the anticipation of a letter back from a person I would probably never meet, but with whom I had formed a close bond. Time chatting with Jesus and Mary and telling them my concerns and feeling consoled. I also remember fondly the time when Donald joined our family, and Lulu, too, and what a surge of love flooded our home. My parents, feeling that they had more to give, brought in two children to their home even though they couldn’t afford the family they had. They knew, even in their own clumsy way, that it is family that matters. That is why I wanted a big family, myself.

Your births, each in its turn, were four of the most welcome and joyful days of my life. I wanted, more than anything to be your mother and love, love, love, love, love, you.

So, even though time passes, (very slowly when you’re in a hospital) I have discovered we carry with us all the experiences; the joys, the sorrows and all the accompanying emotions. They never leave us, so we must make room for them, accept them and create more space for love with which to surround them. At least that’s what I have been doing for decades.

When Bill and I reconnected and chose to love one another, we believed our choice would also be a good one for you all. I have never felt so loved by another person as I do by him and I hope that his experience has been the same. We made decisions that would be in our family’s best interest at the time and were confident that life was going to be better because we were sharing the journey together. But sometimes life stinks. Life is difficult on a good day, for Heaven’s sake. However, it has been in the tough times, like now, that the love we have cultivated helps us get through. All the personal decisions we have made have impacted all in our circle, which of course, the most important members, as you all now know, are our children.

Decisions I made, especially as a young wife in England, may have caused some suffering to you. Please know that I am sorry. There were times I was so stressed and afraid that I probably couldn’t give you the nurturing and care you deserved in that time. I may have been too wrapped up in my own mess that I was incapable of providing you with the emotional, psychological and intellectual tools needed to navigate life well because I didn’t possess them, then. I have been working on forgiving myself for being less than you all needed and deserved. I’m getting there.

I have cried a lot this week, not in front of any of you, or your dad, but alone. The tears just come, and I think it’s because I know that my time with your dad is limited and I want the time we have left to be good and I want to do for him now what I didn’t do for you when you needed me as little people. He is scared, too, and frustrated with being confined to his bed for a significant amount of time, and we all know how much he values his independence. His past, of which he says very little, as he didn’t really know his dad who was very quiet, probably plays out in his mind as he waits to see Jesus. He seems ready. He uses the F word so much that I just listen for the tone and try to interpret what he is saying. I, selfishly, am not ready, though. I am learning to accept that each of us has our own individual journey to make, and that Bill’s journey is his, not mine.

Whenever the inevitable occurs, and I am on my own, I will be leaving the US. I know this is no surprise to you all, but I want to say now what is in my heart, as who knows when I will have this much time on my hands again.

I am so very proud of each one of you and what good people you are becoming (we are never finished becoming our best self).

In spite of seemingly insurmountable challenges in your lives you have maintained your integrity, cultivated compassion for those in life’s margins, and found the most loving souls to partner with on life’s journey. You are all caring, nurturing and loving parents and all round decent human beings. I do not agree with some of your ideas, your choices, your political views or your beliefs, but that’s not my business and I refuse to allow my views on that stuff to interfere with the love I have in my heart for you, or the pride I take in being your mother.

I am so in awe of what great people you are, considering the difficult start we had as a family. You have taken on the tough soul work needed to be people of integrity, continually working toward being your best selves. All credit to you, for being so intentional in your lives. I couldn’t love you more than I do at this moment.

It has never mattered to me what you chose to do with your lives, in terms of work, it only mattered that you were good people and in that you have excelled. My one prayer is that you continue to work on the relationships that matter; the connections you have with one another and with Heather, Laura and Pete. It is why I work so hard to create opportunities for you all to be together, like the Buckhorn tradition.

Sometimes I find it hard when examining my conscience or checking my motives for doing something, to face my selfishness. I continue to call myself out for my shortcomings and get back on the right path toward peace. I really do try to do the right thing in all circumstances, but like anyone, I am human and make many mistakes. So, please, don’t allow my past mistakes, or your own, to spoil your potential for happiness. I encourage you to continue to choose love, choose joy and choose Life.

Life is too short to be miserable. It is such a gift. Find things every day to be grateful for and keep the challenges in perspective working creatively to overcome them. Be confident in my love and know that you have greatness within you, and you deserve to be happy.

To end my letter, sorry, it’s a bit rambling, I am going to list 20 things for which I am grateful (there are plenty more, but I don’t want to bore you).

1. Life

2. Bill

3. Your partners in life

4. My grandchildren

5. Helpers

6. Art

7. Flower gardens

8. Rain

9. Work

10. Learning

11. The Buckhorn Inn

12. Second chances

13. My faith

14. Belly laughs

15. Impromptu get togethers

16. Live music

17. Singing children

18. Memories of good times together

19. Hugs and cuddles

20. YOU

I love you. Thank you, for choosing me, when you were spirit babies, to be your mother.

Wherever I am, wherever I end up. Know that you are loved.

Mom xxx