I feared my heart couldn’t ingest this beautiful article at first:
My own (and only) daughter died on the fifth of September, 2022. She was five years old. I buried her in the flower crown I walked down the aisle to when I married her father (my soul mate). She, perhaps, being my greater soul-mate.
In these fifteen months, I’ve been reconciling who my daughter was apart from myself:
Who Olivia was...is?
Her independence... not just her interdependence.
Her beautiful idiosyncrasies, all of which made her wholly her own.
You do love justice in seeing your precious daughter and accepting her for all that she is. You are living this transition beautifully.
I’m starting to see that my daughter was always mine to have, and no matter the transition- always mine to lose.
Shalamar, you are breaking my heart. Please, please, please keep recording who Olivia was in her becoming--it will keep changing as you see her through the lens of your evolving self. She'll be forever five but also she'll grow, grow up, grow older right along with you. Keep writing, hold her close, she is forever with you. That's how love works. Margaret
Wow, that was quite a feat! A vivid slideshow of a slice of life; the mother-daughter relationship. It whirled by, like an avian carousel, up and down, in colorful and swift breathtaking moments. If only we could titrate pain that way! Quick, brief, knowing that joy will return. Life, relationships, experience are enriched by the knowledge that we can never be sure. Thank you for this lovely essay!
Thank you for your deep dive into the guts of my story, your kind and vivid reflections, for taking the time to comment so poignantly. You have given me confidence in the universality of my message, of all of our stories. Warmly, Margaret
I savored each sweet, loving word like one of those carrot cake cupcakes, nodding along in recognition as an old mother and new mother-in-law whose daughter recently said they may not have children. We know we raise them to let them go. It is a little easier to do when they choose a good partner, but “a little easier” is still a relative phrase. Mazel tov to the couple. Herb is undoubtedly proud of both of his girls.
Kathy, you are as sweet as one of those cupcakes. Thank you for your kind words, and for seeing yourself, your daughter and daughter-in-law in my story. We do indeed let them go, but then get them back when we finally acknowledge who they are! Margaret
This is so the story of me and my mom and I love getting to read perspectives like this that open up (more than my mom currently can). Thanks for sharing
Morgxn, we moms can be pretty clueless and for way too long. At least I was. Just ask Lydia! I am so glad the truth of my story resonated with you. Don't give up yet on your mom, it takes us a while....Love, Margaret
I love this: "Each of twelve tables is adorned with garlands of ivy, its centerpiece a framed reproduction of a botanical rendering of a single herb: sage, thyme, oregano, anise, tarragon, basil, dill, caraway, garlic, mint, parsley, or rosemary." I also like the photographs a lot and wish there were more.
To paraphrase....there’s an ocean between us filled with imagined mother daughter conversations. Oh the yearning for something more. My daughter is 55; this is what it is. An occasional something brings us together emotionally/spiritually then we drift apart. In reality, we are just 2 miles away from each other. Oh for the 3am feedings. Thank you
Kathy, may whatever oceans get in your way split like the sea in the bible. Even just two miles is far if you happen to be swimming in an undertow. Eventually the yearning itself will supersede the distance--imagined and real--and you will drift back together. Because that's what you want. Much love, Margaret
there are days I too long for those 3 am feedings ... but i've also come to believe the ultimate gift of a mother's presence is to honor and know the ways we can still hold them close as we equally let them go.
so grateful to know you and all that we share ~ i can't wait to read "and always one more time."
I am teary eyed as I write. Thank you so much for expressing so beautifully your relationship with your daughter. I too have that same kind of relationship with my most precious daughter. Thank you for sharing
Flitter is the perfect word. A day holed up with a two-year-old can feel like an eternity. Then blink and you're mother-of-the-bride. Flitter, flitter! Thanks for your generous response. Margaret
I so enjoyed being invited on this journey. What a poignant experience to be able to swirl among the currents of grief as you simultaneously celebrate your daughter and new son in law. Well done Mama.
Oh I cried. My child has celiac disease, wants no children and is slipping away from me, a little every day as they find their way in these teenage years. Thank you 😊
Susan, hang in there. It took my daughter years to accept her Celiac disease and also to settle into adulthood on her terms. But they know you're there. Trust me: they absolutely know you are there. Much love, Margaret
Beautiful and poignant. Who knew that by time I was 60 (a couple decades ago!) I'd gladly go back, as would my spouse, to those trying years when the kids were small? Thank heavens for grandchildren! And thank YOU for this!
Sydney, you are most welcome. Now you know the secret joy of parenthood AND grandparenthood. Our work may be done but the love? Never! Warmly, Margaret
Margaret,
I feared my heart couldn’t ingest this beautiful article at first:
My own (and only) daughter died on the fifth of September, 2022. She was five years old. I buried her in the flower crown I walked down the aisle to when I married her father (my soul mate). She, perhaps, being my greater soul-mate.
In these fifteen months, I’ve been reconciling who my daughter was apart from myself:
Who Olivia was...is?
Her independence... not just her interdependence.
Her beautiful idiosyncrasies, all of which made her wholly her own.
You do love justice in seeing your precious daughter and accepting her for all that she is. You are living this transition beautifully.
I’m starting to see that my daughter was always mine to have, and no matter the transition- always mine to lose.
All my love,
🤍🤍🤍
A fellow bereaved
❤️
Shalamar, you are breaking my heart. Please, please, please keep recording who Olivia was in her becoming--it will keep changing as you see her through the lens of your evolving self. She'll be forever five but also she'll grow, grow up, grow older right along with you. Keep writing, hold her close, she is forever with you. That's how love works. Margaret
🥹🤍🤍🤍
Wow, that was quite a feat! A vivid slideshow of a slice of life; the mother-daughter relationship. It whirled by, like an avian carousel, up and down, in colorful and swift breathtaking moments. If only we could titrate pain that way! Quick, brief, knowing that joy will return. Life, relationships, experience are enriched by the knowledge that we can never be sure. Thank you for this lovely essay!
Sally,
Thank you for your deep dive into the guts of my story, your kind and vivid reflections, for taking the time to comment so poignantly. You have given me confidence in the universality of my message, of all of our stories. Warmly, Margaret
I savored each sweet, loving word like one of those carrot cake cupcakes, nodding along in recognition as an old mother and new mother-in-law whose daughter recently said they may not have children. We know we raise them to let them go. It is a little easier to do when they choose a good partner, but “a little easier” is still a relative phrase. Mazel tov to the couple. Herb is undoubtedly proud of both of his girls.
Kathy, you are as sweet as one of those cupcakes. Thank you for your kind words, and for seeing yourself, your daughter and daughter-in-law in my story. We do indeed let them go, but then get them back when we finally acknowledge who they are! Margaret
What gorgeous writing (and photos). I was really moved by this, thank you, Margaret.
Teresa, you are most welcome. Thanks for reading! Margaret
This is so the story of me and my mom and I love getting to read perspectives like this that open up (more than my mom currently can). Thanks for sharing
Morgxn, we moms can be pretty clueless and for way too long. At least I was. Just ask Lydia! I am so glad the truth of my story resonated with you. Don't give up yet on your mom, it takes us a while....Love, Margaret
If there was a podcast for parents and adult kids to come talk about the experience - I would be listening. And want to be on it ;$
I love this: "Each of twelve tables is adorned with garlands of ivy, its centerpiece a framed reproduction of a botanical rendering of a single herb: sage, thyme, oregano, anise, tarragon, basil, dill, caraway, garlic, mint, parsley, or rosemary." I also like the photographs a lot and wish there were more.
Diane, you are clearly a lover of visuals! Thanks for your appreciative message. Oh, you want more photos? Don't tempt me!!!!! Margaret
they're beautifully done in b/w, so yeah, can you post them here?
To paraphrase....there’s an ocean between us filled with imagined mother daughter conversations. Oh the yearning for something more. My daughter is 55; this is what it is. An occasional something brings us together emotionally/spiritually then we drift apart. In reality, we are just 2 miles away from each other. Oh for the 3am feedings. Thank you
Kathy, may whatever oceans get in your way split like the sea in the bible. Even just two miles is far if you happen to be swimming in an undertow. Eventually the yearning itself will supersede the distance--imagined and real--and you will drift back together. Because that's what you want. Much love, Margaret
there are days I too long for those 3 am feedings ... but i've also come to believe the ultimate gift of a mother's presence is to honor and know the ways we can still hold them close as we equally let them go.
so grateful to know you and all that we share ~ i can't wait to read "and always one more time."
Thank you so much, Sarah. I am the better for knowing you, too! Love, Peggy
I am teary eyed as I write. Thank you so much for expressing so beautifully your relationship with your daughter. I too have that same kind of relationship with my most precious daughter. Thank you for sharing
Patty, those of us who do have a daughter are the luckiest people alive. No matter what. Love, Margaret
So sweet. Beautiful writing. So well describes how fast the years flitter by as a parent.
Flitter is the perfect word. A day holed up with a two-year-old can feel like an eternity. Then blink and you're mother-of-the-bride. Flitter, flitter! Thanks for your generous response. Margaret
That phrase “the longest, shortest time” really describes it, doesn’t it?
I so enjoyed being invited on this journey. What a poignant experience to be able to swirl among the currents of grief as you simultaneously celebrate your daughter and new son in law. Well done Mama.
Amy, your words touch me deeply, knowing I have touched you and you "get" it! Gratefully, Margaret
Beautifully written. I’m getting married this year to my Jake and can’t wait to have my mom by my side.
Suze, all men named Jake are very, very special. Have a spectacular wedding and know that we moms are always there for our girls. Love, Margaret
Oh I cried. My child has celiac disease, wants no children and is slipping away from me, a little every day as they find their way in these teenage years. Thank you 😊
Susan, hang in there. It took my daughter years to accept her Celiac disease and also to settle into adulthood on her terms. But they know you're there. Trust me: they absolutely know you are there. Much love, Margaret
Thank you for this beautiful storytelling <3
Thank you, Emily, for reading! Margaret
Beautiful and poignant. Who knew that by time I was 60 (a couple decades ago!) I'd gladly go back, as would my spouse, to those trying years when the kids were small? Thank heavens for grandchildren! And thank YOU for this!
Sydney, you are most welcome. Now you know the secret joy of parenthood AND grandparenthood. Our work may be done but the love? Never! Warmly, Margaret
You are SO right! Thanks, S
Beautiful piece!
Thank you, Jayne! Margaret