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She greets them, imperious in blue-black and gold with a high Victorian face, she escorts them all to rooms so they can stay the night in her manor. Of course, closeness with death and the mysteries is the ancient mentor's Despite her elderly exterior, she easily fends off the Frightful Four when they try to kidnap the boy.

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I get you, Rachael. My sons and my sister understand but trying to be polite to the other well-wishers takes too much out of me. I was lucky to have my mom for 60 years.


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Still sometimes I feel like a lost child without her. I tried to write three things about my mom that I loved but it got too long and sad. She was a geat mom and a still better grandmother to my boys. We had a bit of a fraught relationship.

She never stopped wanting to find new things in life. She soldiered on in spite of living through abuse in her youth, and she always loved babies.

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When the chips were down, she was on your side, no matter what. My mom thought one potato would feed all of us at dinner; she notoriously made too little food My mom relied on her good looks and then when she got sick and the doctors had to cut her face, literally in half, she cried, not because she was dying, but that she was no longer pretty My mom drove me nuts because she honestly was incredibly self-absorbed yet 13 years after her death, I miss her. I miss her laugh, her artistic nature, the fact that she cut her own hair, her complexity. I just miss her. Mom was addicted to playing Bridge and used to call me every afternoon to recap her triumphs and tragedies even though I never learned how to play.

I did, however, know when to sympathize or celebrate along with her. She was also the family story remember-er.

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She told wonderful stories of her family to us when we were kids and to my kids and nephew. My mother loved us fiercely. Protected us from harm. Stood up for us. She was an excellent cook and taught me how to knit and crochet. But she was jealous of her children. Resentful of what we had, of what she and my father had given us. She came across as my biggest fan but was also my biggest bully, building me up only to tear me down.

My Mum gave me music, which she admittedly put too much pressure on me for but no one was more proud of my accomplishments. She would have made a lovely grandmother, I think. My husband is facing his first mothers day without his Mum who we lost to cancer last November. She was the one to help me choose my wedding dress 20 years ago. Thanks for the space to share this—I read every comment. It helps.

I may take off for the wilderness every year from now on.

Her love for me was so fierce, she taught me from the earliest age that no one, absolutely no one, was responsible for me but me. She fought to make the Clark County school district let me into Algebra I.

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Mother’s Day: A Diatribe - R. H. HERRON

The weight of pretending it was anything else is just too heavy. I wish for every motherless child, every grieving mother to grow peacefully comfortable with our losses. At our own damn speed, and in our own damn way. They all got smashed, ripped, thrown away. And we would get berated for not trying harder.

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My mom oassed away in, an unhappy sick woman who never received the treatment she needed to live a full life. My mom and I have been estranged for 6 years now. I can still think of three things I love d about her. I am a mother myself, and I got a charming handmade gift from my daughter today — no companies were furthered in exploitation, card-wise, because she made it all for me by hand. So that is the one bright spot for me in a day with which I struggle because I am still so angry that she is gone.

She had an infectious, mischievous giggle with just a hint of evil to it — just enough to keep it from being saccharine. God, she was impossible to restrain once she decided on something, and woe betide they who tried to stand in her way. She said it, often, and showed it, too. No matter how bad things got, she said, we could always, always come home. I miss her so viscerally sometimes, I feel it physically in my sternum, like I might fold inward around the hurt of it.


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She was a loving mom to me and my three sisters. She died a long drawnout death that my dad tried to protect us from. Lots of confusing emotions are left from that time. Two years ago I lost my youngest daughter she was 32 years old and died instantly in a car crash. I feel like mothers day should be a time to celebrate all the strong women who have in role models to us along the way. Hugs to you Rachel I always enjoy reading what you have to say! Thanks for providing a forum for us to express our feelings today. I loved that my mother had a mouth like a sailor at times and a raunchy sense of humor.

I loved her potato salad. No one has ever been ever to duplicate it even with the recipe. She almost always made it when I would visit. She was a woman ahead of her time. I often wonder what she would have done if she had been born at a different time and to a different mother. My grandmother was a mean woman, especially to my mom.

My mother was a narcissist who should never had children. She was dyslexic and had ADD, and so she spoke her own language. It was funny but could be frustrating for all. I thankfully spoke her language. My father never tried. But there were reasons. She hid bar soap in the linens.

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She would put wax potpourri in the freezer. Mustard with the hair products. But the bar soap was to keep the linens fresh, the wax was to keep the fragrance oils longer. The mustard was an ADD mistake. She had a wicked sense of humor. She could be subtle. For example, she had a planter with lettuce and tomato plants and she put a little pig in it. Nobody would have known that but her, I asked point blank because I knew it had to be something. And she had this great little secret smile when she said it. I loved the beautiful flower arrangements my mother made as a florist.

I remember helping her as a child, playing in babies breath. The smell of roses always reminders me of her. I love the way she put everyone first. Always before herself, even when she was tired she was giving away I love the way she put everyone first. Always putting herself second, even when she was tired.

Even if it meant she was giving away her last cent. I love how she would dance in the kitchen and her slippers.