For my mother, with my deepest apologies

Dear Mom,

Do you remember when I was a teenager and I knew everything?  Do you remember when I was moody and difficult, the screaming fights?  Do you remember the horrible things I said to you?  How I judged you and found you wanting?  I was sure I would be a better mother than you were.  I could detail your every fault, your every mistake and I knew that I was going to be a much better mother because I wasn't going to be like you.  Oh the wisdom of youth.  Did you ever hope that I would grow up to have a child "just like me"?
There are so many things I didn't know then.  I didn't know that having a child takes your heart out of your chest and lays it bare.  I didn't know that a parent carries worry and fear, hopes and dreams.  I never once thought of how difficult it could be to stand still and watch your child make mistakes when you know better, if only they would listen.
I had a conversation with the boys recently that didn't go well.  They were cruel in their words.  It seems, 25 years later, I have become you and my children have become me.  Is this the cycle of life?  I was hurt from the things they said to me.  Don't they understand how deeply I love them?  Don't they understand that I have done my best?  Don't they know that I would do anything for them?  It seems that my best hasn't been good enough.  In their teenage wisdom they question my choices, my actions, my parenting skills.  From my advanced years I understand that we are all doing the best we can with the knowledge we have.  From their advanced wisdom they are sure that my choices are wrong and they could do better.  Perhaps you should be grateful that there was only one of me hurling accusations at you.  They ganged up on me and left me in tears.
I was appalled that my boys could behave so poorly.  Didn't I raise them better then that?  Didn't I teach them about kindness, compassion and forgiveness?  I know I did.  But then, I know you raised me better then to behave that way and it certainly didn't stop my cruel words towards you.
In my pride, I thought, what a good, kind, person I am for forgiving my mother her failings.  Every time you disappointed me, every time I felt like you should have been there for me, every time you didn't read my mind, say the right words, do the right thing... I have forgiven you all.
I have to wonder if my children will forgive me for my failings someday.  But wait, I don't think I have failed them.  I have done my best.  I have loved them unconditionally.  I have fought for them.  I have stood back and allowed them to grow when I wanted to protect them.  I have cheered their successes and allowed them to face defeats.  I have encouraged them and supported them.  I have held them in the night and dried their tears. I have believed in them.
Then I am humbled, because in my pride I have forgiven you, but was there anything to forgive?  You were the best mother you knew how to be.  More to the point, have you forgiven me for my teenage rebellions?  Of course I know the answer to that.  In the same way that I have already forgiven my boys, with the understanding that they are children, in men's bodies.  And they really don't know everything, they just think they do.  Still it is worth saying, I'm sorry.  Perhaps it is the cycle of life, perhaps it is a normal part of growing up, but I'm sorry for thoughtless, teenage words.  I'm sorry for the worries and the pain I caused you.  I'm sorry for the fights and the tears.
It seems I really have turned into you.  Your words come out of  my mouth every day.  Driving a boy to school we had a conversation about why he wouldn't wear his jacket when it was so cold and snowy and then I thought, why bother?  I had the same conversation with you when I was a teenager and I wasn't going to be so uncool as to wear a jacket either.  So there!  I decided it wasn't worth the effort and that he was the one who was going to be cold so why waste my time.
When I was a child I was sure that I would never grow up to be like you.  Yet now being like you, isn't such a bad thing after all.  I know I'm not the best mother in the world but I'm okay with that.  My hope isn't that my children forgive me my failings and I don't wish that they have a child just like they are.  My hope is that they grow in wisdom, in compassion and someday see that I have done my best.  I hope that they learn to love me and appreciate me the same way I have learned to love and appreciate you.
Thanks for the many, many years of parenting already done and the many more still to come.
 

Love Victoria