As I grow older, I’m beginning to understand my mom more. Though I got the mellower, more loving side of my grandma, I can say that my mom never truly bonded with her because Grandma was detached. My mom’s older sisters basically raised her, but they were not warm, they could be cruel and awful to her, which I suppose contributed to her rebellious streak. Grandma also had a tendency to run off any suitors, which partially explains why Mom never married.
Still, for everything Mom experienced and endured, she is remarkably strong and resilient. The weirdest, smallest things make me cry, but Mom is stoic through it all, though this has also changed as she’s gotten older. She is the immovable boulder, weathering life’s curveballs while I am the soft, chalky stone that crumbles at the first hint of rain.
This is all to say that I am deeply grateful for my mom.