Mother-Daughter Tea

by Gwen Eastlake-DeCrow

I was recently invited to a Mother-Daughter Tea. Being invited broke my heart. 

I have no mother, no daughter to take.

It is one week shy of the one-year anniversary of my mother’s death. She was 61, and an artist. She fought pancreatic cancer for six months. We were close even though she lived in Ohio and I live in south Florida. She was peaceful and dignified as she coped with the disease that ultimately ravaged her body.

I took time off work to fly to her home every month to be with her and I was so glad I could be there, helping to care for her, through her final week.

Over the past eleven months, which also introduced me to my 40th birthday, I have been working through my varied emotions in dealing with the fact that my mom is no longer on this earth. I mostly get by looking at the sky and talking to her as if she is still here; as if she sees me and knows what I’m saying to her.

I am pretty successful at not feeling sorry for myself. I have been married eleven years to a wonderful, supportive man. His family and mine are a great source of comfort, even though my family is very small and does not live near us.

Prior to my mother’s death, my husband David and I came to the realization we couldn’t conceive children. Although we went through many fertility treatments, none were successful. David and I experienced a sense of loss we never anticipated. I felt displaced as a woman without children. Our life together took an unexpected new direction.

My mom was there for me to talk to. I was grateful she never put pressure on us to make her a grandmother, and fortunately my brother and his wife soon had a baby that my mom could know and love. David and I moved forward successfully as a childless couple.

Ten years into my marriage, and just shortly after her own 40-year wedding anniversary, my mom died. Following her death, I had to have a hysterectomy to treat recurring endometriosis and related problems. 2005 was a year of final endings for me.

I inherited some of my mother’s art and a few of her belongings which help me to still feel close to her. Included are scraps of memorabilia that a mother treasures from her daughter’s childhood and saves forever, thinking someday her daughter will be able to share them with her own children.

I sit alone with these treasures, sifting them gently through my hands and decide to have a cup of tea.