Why Everyone Needs a Mother's Love

So I was recently told that someone in my family doesn't like me.  It really took me by surprise, not that it should have I guess.  Truth is, I can't think of anyone in my family whom I "like" 100%.  But there's nobody I don't like at all.  There are even people I love to fight with.  I try hard to be respectful.  I've been called out on that and learned from the experience.  Even if they're wrong, nobody deserves an unfair fight.

But every time someone in my family slams me I always find myself in the same exact terrified desolate place I was the moment my dad told me my mother was killed.  I know it's dramatic.  I know it's pathetic.  I also know it will never ever cease.  It's my wound.  It's the one I get so used to that I hate to even mention, but the one that screams with a life of it's own from any real nudge.  The pain of losing your mother after just basically getting to know and appreciate her - yet looong before having any opportunity to disagree or resent her in a stretch for independence.  I see her face vaguely.  I think back to how life felt before.  I feel her so much these days in me.  I am a mother.  The other day my son drew his moms for the first time.  Ema had her arms outstretched spanning the whole page.  My body was bigger :( but inside me, he drew a heart.

I am the world to my youngest.  I won't always be, I know.  What's new to me is how much they are mine.  That's the part I missed.  I don't remember her ever telling me that she loved me or was proud of me or anything like that.  I mean I know she did or was.  I remember crazy things, like a day her and my father fought and I was wondering if the man who owned the corner store would hire me to work for him, just in case I needed to support my mother.  (I couldn't have been 3 years old yet). 

Or the time I stole something from school and lied to her about how I got it.  The guilt was tremendous, but I never fessed up. 

I remember her singing, and reading me The Hobbit.  I remember crawling into bed with her at night if I got scared.  I know she loved me.  I just miss that love.

It's terrible here.  It's so awful to feel alone.  I mean I'm not.  I'm so lucky. It's just when family judges and dismisses you.  When they - who just aren't supposed to - leave ...and not because they were hurt -
I judge.  I know I do.  I'm guilty of the same deed.  But I don't dismiss.  I keep walls up only where they protect my children and only as strong as they need to be to do that.  The rest of me is fair game.  But life is so short.  I hope I learn not to judge anybody anything short of how great they really are.  My kids can do no wrong.  I hope I learn to see more people like that.

But my God how I miss my mother.