I love my mother.
She wasn't a great mom. She was a great mom. She brought horrific baggage into her adulthood which affected all of her choices and relationships, and many of those were not good for me.
She also loved me, loves me, intensely and tried to do what she thought was best for me. In many cases she failed. I carry all kinds of baggage myself.
But I love my mom. It helped, as I matured, to see her through different lenses. An adult lens, a professional lens...over time, gradually, I released my angst and embraced my love for her.
My mom taught me to be strong, independent, and to face whatever life brought me with courage, humor, and steadfast integrity. She taught me to love other people, to accept their failings, to appreciate them for who they are. She raised me to embrace diversity.
She wasn't great. She was. She is. I love her. I forgive her. I admire what she's accomplished in her life, with the baggage she's carried, rather than judging her for her failings.
We had an intimate lunch for Mom's Day, and then spent the rest of the day with my sons and grandson, being loved by them. But Mother's Day is no big deal; nothing really different. We love each other all the time.
