Tomorrow is my late mothers birthday. In honor of her memory, I’m sharing the post below. I wrote it 2 years ago but feel even closer to the words and their sentiment than before. In fact, I love her more than ever before…
Remembering Mom, Sally Lou Cameron
(9/8/39 – 9/21/07)
“A piece of work” is a euphemism that encompasses a broad range of meaning, including the implication of difficult-ness. But with difficultness can spring, extreme beauty.
Mom was a piece of work. She was difficult and beautiful. If Picasso had painted her (assuming he’d have done it when he was transitioning from Realism to early Cubism), he’d have produced an image – part witch and part child. On the other hand, if Renoir had been her portraitist, the result would have been the soft image of an exquisite female, seated in a park, encircled by small animals and birds, with children on her lap.
Mom was all of this; complete; yet troubled.
A large part of my life experience was shaped by her Witch, her Child, her Goddess.
Today, I remember her with total love: the kind of love that accepts all of a person – their darkness and their light – and rejoices in gratitude for their willingness to let you see them.
She let me see her.
Since her death, I’ve realized that this means holding the love of one who may have done me wrong at times, but on so many more occasions, did me right. And, anyway, who endeavored and who did love me as much and as wholly as she could.