A few weeks ago I revised my profile photo to bring awareness to an upcoming event. Within minutes, I received a comment.
“You look like your mom. I miss her.”
I wasn’t at all surprised. All my life I have heard that I am an image of my mother. Ever since she passed away 6 years ago, the new adage has been “I miss her.”
When I was younger, I internally cringed when people said that I looked like her. I do not deny that I look like my mother; it’s obvious in photos of her when she was younger. The negative association stemmed from my mother replying to these type of compliments with “Oh, but she’s SO much prettier than I ever was.” And she meant it, with a bitter tone, that was hard to miss. Each admiration was quickly chopped down to be about my mother’s insecurities. Always.
My mom saw my sister and I as extensions of herself and there was not a lot of room to disappoint. Being that I looked a lot like my mother, added an intense pressure of having to do and be what she wanted me to be. I failed.
My mother and I had a combative relationship a good portion of my life: when I was child and had not yet succumbed to being a mother-pleaser and in my twenties when I decided to consciously honor thyself and forgo the life mission of trying to win my mother’s approval.
Over time, I worked on healing myself and that allowed me to be present during her transition. I will not go into the details of that chapter here simply because I am not ready to share the most personal, intimate details of that experience that were profoundly beautiful and powerful. After my mother died, I began to dream about her. They were not just dreams, they were visits. Intense, spiritual visits that brought forth a deep healing. They continue today.
For about a year after she died, I had moments when I would think, “I should call Mom and share this with her” and then I would remember. There have been and will be occasions when I wish she was here.
When Dan and I were traveling around the United States, while in Colorado I found myself in a funk because I was in search of my life’s purpose. I was questioning if my ability to channel was my purpose. Was it worthy? Was I?
The energy of my doubt and confusion was as large as the herd of buffalo that crossed the road we watched from a distance. While a large, male buffalo scratched his butt on a post, my heart sent out these questions like a satellite looking for Jupiter. The post eventually fell down and the male buffalo walked on. That night, my mom came to me in a dream.
I had picked up my bag and was just about to exit the door of our little wooden cabin where we had stayed for the night. In came the phone call. I answered and knew instantly who it was.
The connection was staticky but her voice clearly said, “What you are doing is worth it. It is important.” I could feel the energy it took get those words across the ruffled connection.
Then, she was gone.
I feel more connected to my mother than ever before. I can connect with her anytime I need to because I am fortunate to have the ability to channel. It’s like a dial up to the other side. Our spiritual connection is strong and the love between us is one of the truest feelings I have ever known. It carries that sense of heaven that my grandmother did when she came to visit.
When people ask me if I miss my mom I pause before I answer; I know they’re expecting me to say “yes”. The truth is: sometimes. People miss other people when they are no longer present in their lives; a family member who is passed, a friend traveling around the world, an ex-lover. My mom is present. Her and I are connected and she is here when ever I need her.
The topic if I am like her is a different blog. (wink wink)