Four Year Information

At some point in 2021, during a text conversation with my cousin Jeri as she sorted through her recently deceased mother’s writings, she referenced my daily journaling as a gift my kids would receive – an insight into my character they might not otherwise gain. Paraphrasing, she said, “… I thought I knew my mother so well, but in sifting through her writings, I’ve come to realize that my understanding was limited by how much I could get past her being my mother and see her as a person.”

I can relate.

I was fortunate enough to live with my mom post-divorce. During a difficult period for her, going through a breakup of a subsequent relationship. I saw her as an individual like me and not just as a caretaker and abstract provider. It was a mind-opening “game changer” experience. I became very conscious of her humanity. It took her off of a pedestal of sorts and gave me insights and awareness as to her having had her childhood, her evolution, and her hopes and dreams, challenges and heartache. 

I believe there was a book in the 60s called “games people play” or something else along that line, wherein relationship roles were defined as child-child, parent-child, or adult-adult. This was a turning point in our relationship and my own understanding of “adult-adult” interactions. (Although I still quickly revert to parent-child anytime she bakes).

I’m recalling Jeri’s thoughts this morning as I recognize the fourth anniversary of my (almost) daily journaling. It started as a simple desire to recapture the lost opportunity to flip back through a calendar and remember the fleeting moments that otherwise “make up a dull day. “ And over the past four years, it’s become my place to capture more than just a dinner, movie or concert event. It’s where I note passing and ongoing thoughts on a far more personal level. In many ways, it replaced (and perhaps even distracted from) my more prolonged and extensive posts.

When reflecting on her increasing insight into her mother, Jeri wrote, “… the blogs you write, the letters you write to your kids, that show them who you are. It’s a good thing, Geoff”. She also wrote (paraphrasing again), “…I am much more aware of the fact that this is a cycle with everybody, that my children will someday look through my things and go ‘Oh My God, I didn't know that, and that that's OK. Normally, they won't get it till then.”

I am very mindful today of the fact that what I’ve amassed over the past four years, let alone the collection of posts going back to as early as 1999, will eventually become the same to Tommy and Lauren as my Aunt Paula’s writings have been to Jeri. It is the most intimate record they will have of my own thoughts and identity, my reflections on their mother, including our conflicts, and the 18 months we all spent managing her illness and passing. They’ll know how much I struggled with the various dynamics and challenges of co-parenting, solo parenting and more. Hopefully, they’ll know how much I love them, regardless of any amount of chaos we endured.