COMPLETION WITH MOTHER. @ Bettys in Harrogate.

Dive 4

 

Completion connecting as equals: becoming friends with my mother

One brilliant healing for me was hearing my mother say to me, “Yes, darling, I can understand you can love more than one person!” I had asked her, “Do you think, Mum, that it’s possible to love more than one person, with or without sex?” This insight came from a woman who used to be so jealous and full of hurt. Let me explain.

In the last three years of her life my mother and I talked weekly at Betty’s, a lovely teashop in Harrogate, Yorkshire, where she was greeted so kindly. Although she was eventually confined to a wheelchair and a home for the elderly, her mind was sharp, and we shared with trust and a certain depth of honesty about our emotional family patterns. Often she asked me to forgive her for comparing me to my father. This was a vital healing moment for me, and I hope it was for her as well. It was healing just to hear her say, “Please forgive me, Roger!” Mother said it with such sincerity. And I replied, “I do, Mum!” People watching us in that rather posh tearoom as we shared our hearts so openly may have raised their eyebrows at the tears we shed over our chocolate éclairs!

I shared with my mother some of what I had learned from Louise Hay’s books and from other mentors and teachers. My mum sat opened mouthed with tears in her eyes. “Oh, darling, I would love to have known what you know!” And she followed that comment with, “It was so frowned on in my day to love yourself and be strong and independent. I would have been a very different person. I would never have got married so young!” Mum did add, “There have been times since I left your father that I have been happy.”

A special moment of a visiting angel

I remember asking my mother how she wanted to die. She looked across the table and past me and said in a completely peaceful trance, “Do you see the angel sitting there?” And it was like a presence sitting in a chair. In a real divine moment, she whispered: “I know I will be all right.” We cried and held hands, then hugged like two equal spiritual souls. All fear and criticism was gone! I cry while I write this. I truly miss you, Mum. She died in March 2012.