This article was originally published in The Campus Ledger May 8, 2003
I've Been Thinking About ... Mom
I still can't get over the impulse to call my mom when something good happens. Maybe I never will.
Miguel M. Morales
Managing Editor
It’s been 10 years since she died.
Breast cancer. She was 47.
I always want to talk to her, especially during this time of year -- Mother's Day.
I want to tell her about my classes, my job, and my friends.
I want her to know I am working hard to be a good person and that I love her and miss her.
With finals approaching, it's easy for students to forget about Mother's Day.
But those like me never do -- we remember and watch.
We watch those with mothers and envy them, even the ones with bad relationships. At least their mothers are still alive and there is always the chance to heal the relationship.
The world changes when a parent dies.
Our one pure source of unconditional love is gone.
It’s a love we took for granted. It urged our first step, helped us find our talents, and even now understands our struggle for education and to become more than what we are.
As we grow up, move out, and make our place in the world, we struggle to create a new role for ourselves that of an adult.
Sometimes, in order to succeed in the struggle we must break the family ties that bind by leaving. For some simply leaving the family home will do, while for others, it means leaving their community entirely.
However, independence does not mean isolation.
Using growing up as an excuse to escape our family is as childish as wanting to eat cookies for dinner.
Being an adult often means accepting our parents committed the unforgivable sin of being human and made mistakes raising us.
Learn from those mistakes together.
Parents, sit down and talk one-on-one with each of your children.
Let us ask the hard questions.
Take the time out from assigned roles to share feelings and experiences in a non-confrontational manner.
Don’t ignore this opportunity for understanding and growth.
Believe me, you may never get another chance.
At this time in our lives, we can easily forget about mothers, fathers, and those who raised us.
I struggle to recall the sound of my mom's voice with each passing year, but I will always remember dancing with her in the kitchen, as she cooked dinner.
We may have been related by birth but we became a family by choice.
Now, pick up the phone and call your mother.
Don't expect Roy Peter Clark, vice president and senior scholar of Poynter Institute, to bust in your dorm room looking like Flava Flav.
