I Hope You Like Me

   I am not good with anniversaries. I never remember my own wedding anniversary, and if my birthday were any other day but January first, I probably would forget it. Today Marsha called and said that she needed to be alone tomorrow...it took me  a second. Tomorrow is the anniversary of my father's death. I don't hold a memorial or vigil any day of the year for any thing. I think grief happens daily and in new and different ways to everyone. I, even in that moment of passing, experience a joyous and loving grief. 
    I knew my father. I knew what he said and what he meant, I know when he was wrong and when he was right. I follow the good advice and smile and roll my eyes at the bad. Not all parents are a gift. Not all parents are a blessing. I see this everyday. I see my own failures each day.
   I knew Walt...and I liked him. During one of our last fights I told him that I loved him...not words that are ever spoken in our household, but they needed to be spoken that day even in anger. I told him I loved him  but more importantly that I liked him. Walt was speechless. He didn't understand what that meant.
   In life my children sometimes you love your family and sometimes you tolerate them, but when you get to know your flesh and blood deeply and you appreciate them and learn that the truth is that you LIKE them, then you have something. The respect you hold for me as mom or the trust you have in me will never come from our shared blood, it will always come, if it comes at all, through your ability to stop looking at me as a mother and start liking me as a person. You are not "my" children. I don't own you. But I hope to spend many hours throughout your adulthood getting to now you and letting you get to know me. In doing this we open the door for joyous living, joyous sharing, and joyous  grief.