I have spent many words describing my own process of healing so far. Today I would like to take a break to simply talk about her. If she wasn’t an incredible mom, wife, friend, sister… this wouldn’t be so hard, would it? So, the spotlight’s on her today.
My mom’s name was Glenda Anderson. She carried with her a strong sense of “ness” – here’s what it was made of:
She excelled in funny facedness, I was taught by the master.
Flip flops were on her toes year round. (She continued to refer to them as thongs, because she could.)
She was this kind of Nana to her grandkids. She loved fiercly (and had an inner mamma bear to prove it.)
She loved spending time in Hawaii.
She instilled in me a need to explore the world (starting in this camper as a baby :) )
Finger talking… Words were always accompanied by waving digits.
She loved people, parties, laughing until she cried (or peed herself). She was an incredible host who managed to balance an open door policy with healthy boundaries.
What else was Glenda”ness”?
She didn’t bother to change out of her small leopard-print nighty on Christmas mornings.
She always lost her colourfully patterned drug store reading glasses around the house, so she simply bought more. We still find pairs here and there.
She cried a good percentage of the time – out of love, sadness, happiness, anger… Whatever she was feeling, she let it roll down her face. A lesson in humility that I’m still learning.
She wasn’t afraid to say it. Whatever it was, wherever it was. I was embarrassed at times… and now I’m learning that it’s a brave display of self-respect and confidence to be able to do so.
She was incredibly proud of anything her children did.
She didn’t sit still unless it was in front of American Idol with a glass of Diet Coke and a bowl of popcorn.
She gave hugs that made people give in to feeling loved.
She wrote emails that were barely decipherable at times – trying to talk in short form; making up words and spelling. I cherish these in my email folder.
She loved Facebook and checked it every morning in her office, drugstore reading glasses sitting on the brim of her nose.
She teased the people you don’t think you are allowed to tease, and somehow gained their respect for it.
She sparked energy in people. (Example: Ambushing a group of my brother’s high school friends with water balloons.)
She hated getting her photo taken.
She cooked insanely delicious food.
She took care of people, almost to a fault. But I’m grateful for it.
Your “ness” is still here mom, I feel it.