One morning a girl who would later become my dad's step-sister had a fight with her mom. I'm sure it was the typical teenaged daughter rampage, one that is repeated in households across America on a daily basis. It ended, as I understand it, with "I hate you!" and the slamming of a door. That girl had no way of knowing as she huffed away to school that morning that her mom would be in a fatal car accident that day. She had no way of knowing those last words "I hate you" would echo in her life for years, dragging guilt and sorrow with them.
I had my own teenaged rampages growing up -as my mom well knows. Unfortunately. I always knew I loved her, and I think she knew that too? But there were plenty of times in those years that I could have had anyone fooled -even if I was careful to say "I love you" before I went anywhere just because I knew about the girl who fought with her mom one morning, and never got the chance to apologize.
These days, especially since becoming a parent, I find myself reviewing my behavior over my life, especially adolescence, and just cringing. I was not the daughter I should have been. And I'm still not the daughter I want to be.
But, I think there is hope for me yet. Because everyday I recognize a little more of my mother in me. And she is certainly a woman of graciousness and compassion and an unfailing, endless love and I'm pretty sure she's forgiven me already for being the brat I was. I'm pretty sure she forgave me instantly and on the spot, even when I was 14 (and 12 and 13 and 15 through, you know, 28 or so) and so sure I knew it all.
I am blessed to be my mother's daughter, and these days I love it when I discover a bit of her inside me. Like I said, it gives me some hope.
Love you mom.