Unfinished Business

I'm living out the rest of my life for two people, me and my mother. Ma died almost 13 years ago, but I can't help thinking that her spiritual journey while on this earth wasn't quite finished when she passed. I'm not talking about her journey in the next life, if there is one; I'm talking about me, her daughter. I'm part of her journey. I'm a little bit of what she left behind, and I'm going to do my best to leave this world having played my role in my mother's story as best I can.
When my mother died I wasn't exactly the sort of daughter my mother could brag about. I was broke, unemployed, and depressed. I know it was very painful for my mother to reply to questions from well-meaning people who asked about me and how I was doing. It's not that she was embarrassed or ashamed of me. Not at all. She was worried about me, and hated to see me hurting. She was my mother and wanted the best for me. But by the time she died, six months after being diagnosed with cancer, she was too sick to fret about me and my future. But that's how I was when my mother passed.
I'm a lot better now. If Ma were alive today she wouldn't worry about me as much. (I'm feeling so good these days partly due to a small inheritance left to my sister and me after Dad died over a year ago. I still have to earn a living, but lately things have been a lot easier for me, thanks to my parents' estate.) So yes, I might still be struggling financially if Ma were still alive, but I'm pretty sure I'd be dealing with difficult circumstances a whole lot better. I've changed because I've deliberately worked at it. I took responsibility for my life and took steps to change what needed changing. Now I'm in better physical, emotional, and spiritual shape than ever.
When Ma gave birth to me she started something. She started me. She begat a new life. No mother wants to leave her children until they know they're happy and well and able to take care of themselves. That wasn't the case with me. Fortunately, my sister was doing well. When Ma passed my sister had a beautiful young girl who is now a beautiful young woman, preparing to study medicine. So at least some of what Ma left behind was clearly good and right, and I'm sure she knew that. Not so much with me.
My sister and my niece are continuing part of Ma's journey, and they're doing a really fine job of it, too. However, I don't have any children. My part of Ma's legacy ends with me. That's not sad; it just is what it is. It was my choice and I have no regrets. But I'm still, and shall be for the rest of my life, an important chapter in the story of Ma's life, and I'll be damned if I don't give it a happy ending. I missed my chance to fulfill that role when she died, but I'm not making that mistake again.
Sometimes I feel my mother moving through me. I don't know how else to describe it. Maybe it's just memories of her surfacing when my emotions are most keenly felt. The deeper my feelings, about almost anything, the more likely I am to think of Ma. When I've accomplished something that makes me proud, I always talk to my mother about it. "Are you happy now, Ma? Are you proud of me?" My questions are typical of a child seeking approval from her mother, but that's not what motivates me. I just want to finish my chapter of Ma's life with grace and peace. Sometimes living a good life purely for my own sake isn't enough. Sometimes I need to make something or someone better. I'm not suggesting I'm making my mother better; after all, she's dead. Besides, she might be absolutely perfect wherever and in whatever state she is - if she's anywhere or anything at all. But I know I can make my part in Ma's story better. I am a living legacy, as all children are. So to honour the memory of my mother, and to fulfill my role in her legacy, I am living for both of us.
Blessed be, Ma. I love you still.
- G. P.