Mothering Without My Mom怀念母亲，传承母爱

莉兹·克里莫

10 years after my mom died， my daughter was born. I thought Id reached the bottom of my grief. I was wrong. 媽妈去世十年之后，我的女儿出生了。我本以为自己已走出了悲伤，然而我错了。

My mom died on her 50th birthday. She had been diagnosed with breast cancer a few years prior， and though she put up a tremendous fight， she just couldnt ever seem to get ahead of it. The day she left us， we sat in my parents bedroom， which was filled with flowers and balloons， and read her birthday cards out loud. She took her last breath， and my siblings and I each took turns saying goodbye.

When we were done， we all walked outside and sat looking at the creek that ran through my parents backyard. A hummingbird buzzed by， and someone， I think it was my sister， said， “I bet thats mom.” It was as if that boundless energy and charisma shed had when she was healthy had finally been given back to her after so many months confined to her bed， and had taken the form of this lively little bird. Its impossible for me to see one now without thinking of her.

My mom was the sort of person who didnt want a big fuss made over her—unless， of course， the fuss was actually a big party where everyone had a great time and talked about how much they liked her. So， per her request， everyone wore funny hats to her funeral. There was also an open bar， a dance floor， and a DJ who played songs like “Consider me Gone” by Sting. （She always thought that would be a funny song to play at a funeral.） My mom never took herself too seriously. She just wanted everyone to be happy， and we loved her for it.

Even when I was upset with her for not letting me get a hotel room with my friends on prom night， or when she expressed disappointment that I couldnt bring my grades up， I still loved her so much. She listened to me without judgement. She respected my privacy， yet left her door wide open if I ever needed to talk. She encouraged my strengths and dismissed my weaknesses with humor： “Who cares if you dont have a great singing voice？ That doesnt mean you cant still sing！ Sing your heart out！”

She left us too soon， but she left her children with the memory of being loved unconditionally. I realized the best way to honor her memory was to find a way to love myself that much， even in her absence. What an incredible gift that has been.

Ten years after she died， I welcomed my own child into the world. I thought Id reached the bottom of my grief， but found I was actually sitting on a mountain of1 feelings I didnt even realize were there. Initially， I was just angry. Angry that this new person would never get to know her wonderful grandmother. Angry that I couldnt pick up the phone and ask my mom how she handled this or that. I wanted her to say to me， “You used to do that， too！ You were such a pain in the ass.” I missed her levity2， I missed her love. I just missed her.

When I was done feeling sorry for myself， I started feeling something new： panic. How do I give my daughter what my mom managed to give me？ Can I？ My mom was so much fun. Shed sing with us， and dance with us， and bake with us， and laugh with us. Am I fun？ Sometimes I think I am. Im usually the first person on the dance floor， but Im also the first person to leave the party. I hate baking; its too messy. I hate a messy house and I cant cope with chaos. Our house growing up was the definition of chaos： always filled with people， and always a disaster. As a kid， I loved that. It felt so warm， easygoing and comfortable. Could I be easygoing like that， or does our house feel sterile3？ Do I have the warmth she had—the warmth that made me feel so loved？ Will my daughter feel as loved as I did？

One important thing Ive realized as a mom： My own mom wasnt perfect. I remember her as perfect， but not because she did everything right. Like all parents， shed have bad days when her patience was paper-thin and she would make her frustration known.

Like me， Im sure she had her doubts about whether she was going to screw her kids up somehow. Still， to me， she was perfect， and the reason for that was simple： She made a conscious choice to get to know me， to connect4 with me， and to always make me feel safe and loved. Thats it. In a way， its the easiest thing in the world to do as a parent， but on the other hand， its easy to forget since we put so much pressure on ourselves to do everything right all the time.

Im not sure if its having a child of my own or just getting older and learning more about myself， but every day I feel like Im getting to know my mom in a new way. I still miss her so much， but I feel like shes still here with me. When my daughter is kind， I know that in a way her kindness started with my mom. Shes always the first to notice when another person feels sad， or scared， or lonely， and makes sure that person feels seen， just like her grandma did.

When my daughter is sad， its easier for me to acknowledge what that sadness might feel like， because I had someone who always took the time to acknowledge my feelings. While my friends parents would write off the angsty5 music their kids loved， my mom would listen to it with me and try to understand why I loved it so much （and then insist on coming with me to the concert）. And when my daughter is silly， I can hear my mom saying “Shes just like you. God， you were so weird.”

I see all of these things in myself， and in my daughter—this lively， loving， charismatic little girl—and think to myself， “Thats mom.” I realize this， and I can almost see my mom smiling as if she were standing right there with me. And I smile too.                                            ■

妈妈在她50岁生日那天去世。几年前她确诊乳腺癌，虽然她与病魔奋力搏斗，但似乎一直落于下风。她离开我们的那一天，我们坐在爸妈摆满鲜花与气球的卧室里，朗读她的生日贺卡。她临终前，我和兄弟姐妹轮流跟她作最后道别。

告别结束后，我们全都走到外面，坐下来，看着流过爸妈后院的小溪。一只蜂鸟嗡嗡飞过，有人（我想是妹妹）说：“我敢肯定那是妈妈。”似乎妈妈健康时拥有的无尽能量与魅力在她长期卧床之后又回到她身上，化身为这只活泼小鸟。现在我每当看见蜂鸟就会想起她。

妈妈是那种不愿意引起别人过分关注的人——当然，如果这种关注是一个人人尽兴的大派对，每个人都在讨论他们有多喜欢她，则另当别论。因此，根据她的要求，出席葬礼的每个人都戴了滑稽的帽子。葬礼还设有开放酒吧、舞池，还请了位DJ放着斯汀《就当我走了》之类的歌。（她一直认为这首歌在葬礼上放将会非常搞笑。）妈妈从来不会端着架子，她只是想让所有人都开心，而我们正是爱她这一点。

就算是毕业舞会之夜她不让我跟朋友们开房狂欢尽兴让我很生她的气，抑或在我成绩上不来时她表现出失望，我仍然非常爱她。她不带评判之心地倾听我的想法。她尊重我的隐私，但自己的房门总是敞开，以便我随时可以找她谈心。她鼓励我发扬优点，又用幽默将我的缺点轻描淡写：“就算你没有副好嗓子，谁在乎呢？又不是不能唱！尽情唱呗！”

她过早地离开了我们，但是留给子女们无条件被爱的回忆。我认识到，纪念她的最好方式就是同样无条件地爱自己，即使她已不在。这真是一份最棒的礼物。

她去世十年之后，我迎来了自己的孩子。我本以为自己已走出了悲伤，却发现我其实累积了很多情绪，而之前根本没意识到这些情绪的存在。起初，我只是生气，生气这个娃娃不可能有机会认识她有趣的外婆，生气我在遇到种种情况时无法打电话给妈妈讨教如何处理。我想让她对我说：“你当年也这样！也是个难搞的娃。”我想念她的举重若轻，我想念她的爱。我就是想她了。

等这一轮自怨自艾结束后，我又有了新的情绪：恐慌。我如何把妈妈所给予我的再传给女儿？我能吗？妈妈是如此地有趣。她会和我们一起唱歌跳舞做烘焙，和我们一起开怀大笑。我有趣吗？有时候我觉得自己是个有趣的人。我通常头一个跳进舞池，但也是第一个离开聚会的。我讨厌烘焙，因为会把厨房搞得太乱。我讨厌凌乱的家，我无法容忍混乱。我们从小长大的家就完美诠释了混乱一词：总是挤满了人，总是灾难现场的样子。孩提时我喜欢那种环境：温暖、自在又舒适。我能有那么随和吗，还是说我们的家会了无生气？我有她的温暖天性吗，那种让我感觉被深深爱着的温暖？我的女儿会像我一样有那种被爱的感受吗？

成为妈妈后我意识到重要的一点：我的妈妈并不完美。记忆中的她是完美的，但不是因为她做的每件事都是正确的。正如所有的父母一样，她也有不顺心的日子，那些日子里她的耐心有如纸一般薄，而且会把她的负面情绪写在脸上。

像我一样，我很确定她也曾怀疑自己是否会不知怎的就毁了孩子。然而对我来说，她仍是完美的，原因很简单：她特意去了解我，与我沟通，而且总让我感到安全与被爱。就是这样。从某种角度上讲，作为父母，这是世上最容易做到的，然而也是容易忘记的，因为我们给自己太大压力，要一直把所有事情全做对才行。

我不确定这究竟是因为有了自己的孩子，还是随着年龄增长我对自己的认识在加深，但是每天我都感到自己正以新的角度去了解妈妈。我还是那么想念她，但我感觉她就在我身边。当我的女儿展现出善良的品质时，我知道，这种善良其实来自于我的妈妈。她总是头一个注意到别人的悲伤、恐惧或孤单，并且会让那个人知道自己受到关注。这正如她的外婆当年所做的一样。

当我的女儿悲伤时，我更容易认识到那种悲伤是什么感觉，因为曾经有人总是有耐心去了解我的感受。我朋友的父母鄙视孩子们喜欢的格调忧郁的音乐，而我的妈妈则会跟我一起听，试着去理解我为什么如此喜欢这种音乐（然后还非要跟我一起去听演唱会）。当我的女儿犯傻时，我仿佛听到妈妈说，“她跟你太像了。天哪，你那时候脾气真是怪”。

这些品质和情绪，我在自己身上，在我女儿这个活泼、有爱心又充满魅力的小姑娘身上，都能看到。我会自己琢磨：“这随妈妈。”意识到这一点后，我好像可以看到妈妈就站在我旁边向我微笑。于是我也笑了。                                     □

（译者为“《英语世界》杯”翻译大赛获奖者）

1 a mountain of大量的。  2 levity以幽默應对严肃的事，打趣。  3 sterile缺乏新意的;无生气的。

4 connect与……建立良好关系。

5 angsty焦虑的，烦忧的。