What a treat, Rob. Such richness and poignancy. What reveals itself to me through the invisible thread through the beautiful words, and story, is your tender relationship to your childhood and your mother’s imperfections.
And this was so beautiful that I read it several times before continuing on:
“I don’t think any of these things were in her heart. They were just winds that whipped through her, something she was channeling from long before me, and—given her own parents—long before her, too, going back generations.”
Thank you so much, James. I appreciate this more than you know. By the way, I hadn't realized your mom passed in August. Sorry I missed that at the time. Sending lots of love to you and your family.
Thank you, Rob, Yes, it was a long time coming. She had advanced dementia for many years. Her greatest gift for us four kids was the stable upbringing she gave us. The most recent piece I published was about who she was to me, and to the world. The title, if you ever have a moment to look, is Her Divine Dividend.
Hey pal. Smiled when I got this alert from you. So so good is right. Being able to see the multitudes we all contain and discern we aren’t solely defined by the challenging parts of ourselves-like Rib does with his mom is a gift.
Interestingly, when I wrote my last piece about my mom after she passed in August, I focused on her wonderful aspects, as there were many. Yet, there were many challenging aspects in her as well 😬.
Multitudes indeed, my friend. We're complicated creatures. Been trying to keep that in mind lately before passing judgment, especially as it relates to my own...challenging aspects ;)
Great to hear from you. I am doing great and certainly dwelling in love. Hope things are wonderful on your end in writing and in life.
You make me smile man. Complicated is right. Awesome to hear you are doing great and dwelling in love - remember to do that for yourself too. :)
I just published a piece this morning - you know that feeling when you've been working on something and you finally hit send. Terrifying and exhilarating. :)
I just sat down to write and saw that you had posted something, so delayed what I had planned in order to read it. I knew as soon as you had me laughing in the first couple of paragraphs that you'd have me crying in a few more. You're such a gifted writer.
This is so lovely to read, thank you, Sarah. I'm really humbled by that.
I've thought of you foraging in the UK, hoping it's been better than here. It's been so dry, the fall season in NY's been a total bust. I've loved some of the pics you've posted.
Anyway, always so good to hear from you, and I so appreciate this note, so thank you!
I’m good in bed. If you don’t believe me, just ask me.
36 years as a firefighter/paramedic (half for LA County Fire and later half in Eugene Oregon, Eugene Springfield Fire)and constant sleep deprivation and hyper vigilance . I see my old work partners around town “ Shep, what’s the best thing about retirement?” Me- “ Sleep.” . Perpetually in bed by 10 and up by 6. Deep sleep.
But rewind to those childhood days you so vividly bring back to life. Hyper vigilance. Something is coming. Listening through the dark of the house. Oldies music. The smell of weed or cigarettes. Slurred voices or sounds of grunting, moaning , crying yelling, things breaking. Me to myself “ wake your sister up,flee the house”. We were just little kids. My sister slept, I didn’t. Hyper vigilance. Driving home from Mexican dinner sister sleeping seat belted in. I want to sleep but I can’t their voices are slurred . If I fall asleep we’ll crash.
My mom had “ a bad picker” she’d say. Two crappy marriages.
A few weeks ago she called from her care home. I answer her calls but don’t call her. There’s no reason to. Nothing there. “ I was a bad mom to you kids. Especially you…..BUT” I interrupt “ you did the best you could mom.” . She always leaves the short conversations abruptly and awkwardly. I’m 64 and I just don’t have time for it .
Thank you for your depth and transparency. Seems like we have a lot in common.
It's a lot, for sure, Michael—the memories are always so stark, aren't they? I have a deep admiration for people surviving things and then turning that into caring for others, which you've so clearly done. You've earned all that deep sleep. I love that you told your mom she did the best she could. It took me a long time to get there, but I feel now with my folks, nothing's truer than that. Always great to hear from you.
The opening paragraph was just brilliant. You walked me through so much here Rob. The relationship with your parents or at least your mum, sounds very familiar to me and I think you have an incredible way of retelling it, with no judgement, just as it was. Thank you for sharing this.
Thank you, Margaret! Yes, the very first piece of yours I read, the one about living in that apartment complex, I felt so much familiarity there in your writing. I find, too, that being older now than my mom was in these stories (which is so strange to imagine!), it's easier to see her as quite a young single mom, on her own in the U.S. (as she came over solo from Australia), doing everything she could. I'm always thrilled to hear from you, so thanks for this lovely comment.
Yes James said it so clearly. Such richness and poignancy.
Revealing these stories of yours, that must have been a confusing hell to live through, with such tenderness, understanding and compassion amazes me Rob. Just so beautiful.
This is a beautiful note to receive, thank you, Linda. Yes, it was confusing, but in a weird way, totally normal, too. So grateful, as always, for your kind and thoughtful words.
Thank you so much, Julie. I really appreciate your taking the time to read, and leave such a thoughtful comment. Makes my day. Glad to have you reading along.
Oh Rob, this really got me. My mom had her own awful nights and there were things said and done that still hurt my heart to think about. When I was ten she had my brother and that was amazing but also scary because then there was someone to protect and I couldn’t even protect myself.
I also wake up at night sometimes with my heart racing, convinced something is wrong. Sometimes I dream and I’m trying to yell for help but I can’t make any sound and then finally I do and I wake up screaming. Thankfully that happens less and less. Anyway. I too miss my mother and love her and forgive her. Whatever that was, and I have my theories, I know it was the stuff she couldn’t or wouldn’t face, and didn’t have much to do with me at all. Love to your younger self. It sounds like you did an incredible job looking out for your sister. And your mom, too. This was beautiful and tender and a little painful, too. Tons of hugs.
Thank you, as always, Ally. And sorry you relate so much to this, but I already knew we had similar backgrounds. That's a tough age gap with your brother, as he undoubtedly needed to be looked out for, and yet wasn't a peer. That must've been hard.
It's good, and so difficult, to miss and forgive someone challenging, with love. I think you're exactly right: they're unable to face so much about their own lives, and it comes out in ways they'd never choose for themselves or the people around them.
And yet... the work of forgiveness is hard. I've been thinking about that lately, how forgiveness can be as non-linear as grief itself, sometimes. Anyway, I'm always so grateful for your kind words, and to have you reading along. Hugs back to you.
Rob, you are new in my feed this week and, if the new algorithm is why, then "Thank you, Substack Team. It's working!"
You had me laughing and crying with this essay. I was the first-born child who was the caregiver from an early age in a tumultuous upbringing; and, I am someone who strives to understand and forgive the humanity in others. May we continue to heal our hurts, and others, when we write light into the stories of our generational traumas.
Thank you, again, for such a kind note, Michele. Glad to be in each other's Substack orbits. People striving to understand and forgive others, especially after difficult relationships... those are my favorite kind of people (and essays).
I’m sure none of the things your mom said were really in her heart, that they were “just winds that whipped through her”. But is it OK if my heart aches for the 11-year-old boy who kept his house and sister safe by sleeping with a BB gun close by, and who helped his mom find sleep when “she went over the falls in a barrel”?
This was such a heartfelt read, really touching the love you and your sister had for your mum in such a difficult situation. The comforting knock on the walls made me tear up. I’ve always been a terrible sleeper for no reason other than horrific nightmares, no idea why. I’m a single mum of teenagers and wake up in a panic heart thumping and wish I had a comforting reassurance, but I soon go back to sleep. Thank you for sharing this Rob.
The knocks! I hadn't thought about them in years, though my sister would still know that pattern. I do think some of us are just terrible sleepers, no matter what. Probably the hunter-gatherers needed a few folks on high alert while the easy sleepers snoozed right through everything. I'm glad you're able to get back to sleep quickly, and more than anything, glad to have you reading along. Thank you for the kind words.
What a treat, Rob. Such richness and poignancy. What reveals itself to me through the invisible thread through the beautiful words, and story, is your tender relationship to your childhood and your mother’s imperfections.
And this was so beautiful that I read it several times before continuing on:
“I don’t think any of these things were in her heart. They were just winds that whipped through her, something she was channeling from long before me, and—given her own parents—long before her, too, going back generations.”
Thank you for sharing yourself time and again. 🙏
Thank you so much, James. I appreciate this more than you know. By the way, I hadn't realized your mom passed in August. Sorry I missed that at the time. Sending lots of love to you and your family.
Thank you, Rob, Yes, it was a long time coming. She had advanced dementia for many years. Her greatest gift for us four kids was the stable upbringing she gave us. The most recent piece I published was about who she was to me, and to the world. The title, if you ever have a moment to look, is Her Divine Dividend.
Take good care. -James
Came here to make exactly this comment - both the broader observation and pulling out that quote in particular.
So, so good.
Hey pal. Smiled when I got this alert from you. So so good is right. Being able to see the multitudes we all contain and discern we aren’t solely defined by the challenging parts of ourselves-like Rib does with his mom is a gift.
Interestingly, when I wrote my last piece about my mom after she passed in August, I focused on her wonderful aspects, as there were many. Yet, there were many challenging aspects in her as well 😬.
We all contain multitudes don’t we?
I hope you’re well and still dwelling in love.
Multitudes indeed, my friend. We're complicated creatures. Been trying to keep that in mind lately before passing judgment, especially as it relates to my own...challenging aspects ;)
Great to hear from you. I am doing great and certainly dwelling in love. Hope things are wonderful on your end in writing and in life.
You make me smile man. Complicated is right. Awesome to hear you are doing great and dwelling in love - remember to do that for yourself too. :)
I just published a piece this morning - you know that feeling when you've been working on something and you finally hit send. Terrifying and exhilarating. :)
Commented on the piece itself but wow...absolutely brilliant. Proud of you for hitting send on a masterpiece.
I'll third that. Absolutely loved the visual of the wind snapping back and forth.
I just sat down to write and saw that you had posted something, so delayed what I had planned in order to read it. I knew as soon as you had me laughing in the first couple of paragraphs that you'd have me crying in a few more. You're such a gifted writer.
This is so lovely to read, thank you, Sarah. I'm really humbled by that.
I've thought of you foraging in the UK, hoping it's been better than here. It's been so dry, the fall season in NY's been a total bust. I've loved some of the pics you've posted.
Anyway, always so good to hear from you, and I so appreciate this note, so thank you!
I’m good in bed. If you don’t believe me, just ask me.
36 years as a firefighter/paramedic (half for LA County Fire and later half in Eugene Oregon, Eugene Springfield Fire)and constant sleep deprivation and hyper vigilance . I see my old work partners around town “ Shep, what’s the best thing about retirement?” Me- “ Sleep.” . Perpetually in bed by 10 and up by 6. Deep sleep.
But rewind to those childhood days you so vividly bring back to life. Hyper vigilance. Something is coming. Listening through the dark of the house. Oldies music. The smell of weed or cigarettes. Slurred voices or sounds of grunting, moaning , crying yelling, things breaking. Me to myself “ wake your sister up,flee the house”. We were just little kids. My sister slept, I didn’t. Hyper vigilance. Driving home from Mexican dinner sister sleeping seat belted in. I want to sleep but I can’t their voices are slurred . If I fall asleep we’ll crash.
My mom had “ a bad picker” she’d say. Two crappy marriages.
A few weeks ago she called from her care home. I answer her calls but don’t call her. There’s no reason to. Nothing there. “ I was a bad mom to you kids. Especially you…..BUT” I interrupt “ you did the best you could mom.” . She always leaves the short conversations abruptly and awkwardly. I’m 64 and I just don’t have time for it .
Thank you for your depth and transparency. Seems like we have a lot in common.
It's a lot, for sure, Michael—the memories are always so stark, aren't they? I have a deep admiration for people surviving things and then turning that into caring for others, which you've so clearly done. You've earned all that deep sleep. I love that you told your mom she did the best she could. It took me a long time to get there, but I feel now with my folks, nothing's truer than that. Always great to hear from you.
The opening paragraph was just brilliant. You walked me through so much here Rob. The relationship with your parents or at least your mum, sounds very familiar to me and I think you have an incredible way of retelling it, with no judgement, just as it was. Thank you for sharing this.
Thank you, Margaret! Yes, the very first piece of yours I read, the one about living in that apartment complex, I felt so much familiarity there in your writing. I find, too, that being older now than my mom was in these stories (which is so strange to imagine!), it's easier to see her as quite a young single mom, on her own in the U.S. (as she came over solo from Australia), doing everything she could. I'm always thrilled to hear from you, so thanks for this lovely comment.
Yes James said it so clearly. Such richness and poignancy.
Revealing these stories of yours, that must have been a confusing hell to live through, with such tenderness, understanding and compassion amazes me Rob. Just so beautiful.
This is a beautiful note to receive, thank you, Linda. Yes, it was confusing, but in a weird way, totally normal, too. So grateful, as always, for your kind and thoughtful words.
I’m always delighted to see your email and know that I’m in for a touching read. Thank you for your beautiful writings.
Thank you so much, Julie. I really appreciate your taking the time to read, and leave such a thoughtful comment. Makes my day. Glad to have you reading along.
Oh Rob, this really got me. My mom had her own awful nights and there were things said and done that still hurt my heart to think about. When I was ten she had my brother and that was amazing but also scary because then there was someone to protect and I couldn’t even protect myself.
I also wake up at night sometimes with my heart racing, convinced something is wrong. Sometimes I dream and I’m trying to yell for help but I can’t make any sound and then finally I do and I wake up screaming. Thankfully that happens less and less. Anyway. I too miss my mother and love her and forgive her. Whatever that was, and I have my theories, I know it was the stuff she couldn’t or wouldn’t face, and didn’t have much to do with me at all. Love to your younger self. It sounds like you did an incredible job looking out for your sister. And your mom, too. This was beautiful and tender and a little painful, too. Tons of hugs.
Thank you, as always, Ally. And sorry you relate so much to this, but I already knew we had similar backgrounds. That's a tough age gap with your brother, as he undoubtedly needed to be looked out for, and yet wasn't a peer. That must've been hard.
It's good, and so difficult, to miss and forgive someone challenging, with love. I think you're exactly right: they're unable to face so much about their own lives, and it comes out in ways they'd never choose for themselves or the people around them.
And yet... the work of forgiveness is hard. I've been thinking about that lately, how forgiveness can be as non-linear as grief itself, sometimes. Anyway, I'm always so grateful for your kind words, and to have you reading along. Hugs back to you.
Rob, you are new in my feed this week and, if the new algorithm is why, then "Thank you, Substack Team. It's working!"
You had me laughing and crying with this essay. I was the first-born child who was the caregiver from an early age in a tumultuous upbringing; and, I am someone who strives to understand and forgive the humanity in others. May we continue to heal our hurts, and others, when we write light into the stories of our generational traumas.
Thank you, again, for such a kind note, Michele. Glad to be in each other's Substack orbits. People striving to understand and forgive others, especially after difficult relationships... those are my favorite kind of people (and essays).
I’m sure none of the things your mom said were really in her heart, that they were “just winds that whipped through her”. But is it OK if my heart aches for the 11-year-old boy who kept his house and sister safe by sleeping with a BB gun close by, and who helped his mom find sleep when “she went over the falls in a barrel”?
Linda, I'm so moved by the generosity and tenderness of this comment. Thank you for this.
I'm also "bad in bed", but not dating back to having to be so at such a young age. Thanks for sharing these struggles with us in such a touching way.
Thank you, Michelle! Here's to finding good sleep, however it happens.
Brave. Touching. Sad.
Thank you, Cherry. I'm happy to know this reached you.
Via @Wendy Varley probablg
TEAM!!
me too - the algorithms are not dissimilar to conference managers who teach spies ...
‘I want to look into’ translates as ‘don’t let that Cherry Coombe find us’
I just loved it!!
I'm so glad you did, Maria!
This was such a heartfelt read, really touching the love you and your sister had for your mum in such a difficult situation. The comforting knock on the walls made me tear up. I’ve always been a terrible sleeper for no reason other than horrific nightmares, no idea why. I’m a single mum of teenagers and wake up in a panic heart thumping and wish I had a comforting reassurance, but I soon go back to sleep. Thank you for sharing this Rob.
The knocks! I hadn't thought about them in years, though my sister would still know that pattern. I do think some of us are just terrible sleepers, no matter what. Probably the hunter-gatherers needed a few folks on high alert while the easy sleepers snoozed right through everything. I'm glad you're able to get back to sleep quickly, and more than anything, glad to have you reading along. Thank you for the kind words.
Lovely piece, Rob. Thank you.
Thank you, Ann!
Our perfect parents with their imperfections stay with us forever. Beautiful writing. Thanks for sharing.
Very well said. Thank you for the kind words.
That last sentence wraps it so beautifully. What a lovely piece. Thank you.
Very kind of you to say, thank you, Karen!