Dear Mother, Mom, Eileen,
by Elouise
Monarch at Longwood, August 2014
Guess what I’m writing about? Your name!
I never understood why my father insisted on being called ‘Daddy’, or why he insisted that I call you ‘Mother’! I wonder what you wanted to be called. I don’t think I ever asked.
I could call you Eileen, your given name. It’s beautiful. It suits you. Maybe I’ll call you Eileen someday. But right now I’m going to call you Mom.
Why? Because it’s personal and familial without sounding childish. No way would I call you Mommie, for example. Another reason is that I always wanted to call you Mom. But it wasn’t allowed. To me, it makes a difference.
‘Mother’ seems formal. It identifies your biological relation to me, not our personal relationship. Sort of like calling me ‘Daughter’ instead of ‘Sweetie’ or something syrupy like that.
So what’s a ‘Mom’ to do? Here’s my quick list:
- Listen patiently (most of the time!)
- Give feedback as appropriate (no need to say everything that passes through her mind)
- Keep things locked in her heart (no spreading the news to others)
- Talk about her own story as appropriate
- Pray for me
- Affirm and love me as I am
- Admit when she’s wrong
- Be accessible without being a doormat
I know you can do this because you did precisely this in the last few years of your life.
So…from now on, you’re Dear Mom!
Love and hugs,
Elouise
P.S. Enjoy the picture! I’ll send one with each note.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 4 December 2014
Photo Credit: DAFraser, August 2014
Telling the Truth 
Yes, this was your mom.
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Thank you, Clay. I’m so grateful she and I were able to find each other a bit in her last years.
Elouise
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One thing I learned was to say, “I love you,” to my children. I know my parents loved us but no one ever said it. Now it is too late for they are gone. I wonder if it is Presbyterianism? I think I’m going to like your blog. (I found you via “backtowhatever”
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I’m so glad you found me! I really loved your poem on “backtowhatever.” Thanks for visiting, reading, and (I just saw!) following. I, too, have had to learn to say ‘I love you’ to my children. I heard it from my father (not from my mother) when I growing up, but it was a mixed message–delivered in the context of beatings. Very confusing, as you can imagine. Thanks for reading and commenting!
Elouise
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