It’s kind of messing me up, as I sit here at 4AM, to re-read the last email I ever received from my mother in which she describes me as being the way I am from the influence of my two deceased grandmothers.
“You’re kind to others, but you don’t take shit.”
I always saw that email and thought it endearing, because she used curse words and praised me. It has since been a point of reference I go to when I’m feeling low, or want reassurance that I made her proud when she was alive, so I can continue to strive to make her proud of me even in death. Call it melancholy, call it cynical, but I noticed something missing from the email last night: her.
My mom was the person I always tried to be, not my grandmothers. While I loved my grandmothers dearly, they were not the image I saw. My mother had a razor tongue and a wicked sense of humor. She was stylish and stood tall. She was an entrepreneur and a philanthropist. Most importantly, she didn’t judge others, but saw no hesitation in pointing out someone’s bullshit. I realized last night, though, that she didn’t credit herself for how I turned out as a young adult, when she was all I was trying to embody as I was growing up. At her funeral, so many passersby commented on my smile, and how it looked just like hers – but dear God let me have her sense of humor. Let me have her businesswoman prowess. Grant me her sarcastic tongue. Let me hear a roaring laugh from my friends and see her sitting in the crowd smiling at me, throwing her head back with everyone else.

Addiction – alcoholism in this case – made her lose her confidence to the point that her know-it-all “You’re not the parent” mentality eventually turned into, “Don’t judge me” as she looked down at the floor, vodka in her hand and the hot August sun showing truth against the living room walls. My mother showed me what not to be through her addictions. She showed me that I couldn’t allow the future of my existence to be controlled by any outside forces, and to only give control to myself. She showed me that even the toughest people can be small and weak. Ultimately, she showed me all the facets of a human. For all of that I hope to be her. For all of that, I credit her wholly for who I am – negative, positive, complete.