What if my helicopter parent is no longer hovering?
Posted by Cassandra | Filed under Family, Generation Y
As a young woman, a university student and a member of Generation Y, it’s impossible to get away from conversations about parents and, in particular, mothers.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad. And I’m sure most people love their dads too. But there’s something different and special about mothers.
My friends and colleagues complain about their nosy, bossy mom in one breath and then list everything she’s doing for them in the next. They receive texts, emails and phone calls, and, if they live away from home, the occasional visit once a month or so.
They call their mom when they have a problem and are more like sisters or old friends than mother and daughter. They receive care packages, thoughtful and practical gifts, and clothes that actually fit.
If you don’t know me, or you haven’t visited the about me page yet, my mom died of cancer almost five years ago when I was 18.
…
Phew. OK. The bomb has dropped. Can we move on now?
It would be too simple to say I’m jealous, or that it stings when I witness and hear about the relationships between them and their mothers, whether good or bad or somewhere in between.
I’ve accepted my place as a quasi-orphan and I’ve learned to deal with people’s sympathy.
As a seemingly unrelated aside, I’ve totally accepted my Gen Y identity – except I don’t have a helicopter parent.
It would have been my mom. She wouldn’t have been one of those crazy helicopter parents who does your homework for you or won’t let you do your own laundry or calls your profs if you don’t get an A in their class. But she would have been involved in my life.
The thought occurred to me today after I went back to Cambridge to visit my dad and my brother. I can’t help but think of her whenever I go home. My mom never lived there, but some of her furniture, photographs and knick-knacks are there. We have to drive past the house we lived in with her when she died on the way to my dad’s house, only a few blocks away.
But I got a direct reminder thanks to some paperwork my dad’s been holding onto for the past four, almost five, years. I guess my mom put some money away for my brother and I when she really knew she wasn’t going to make it and my dad wants me to check it out.
Just seeing her handwriting, our old address and phone number, and her email address (which no longer exists – I checked) flooded my mind with memories and the reality that, after all this time, she’s still not around.
She filed the paperwork April 2, 2004; less than two months before she died. It’s not much money and I’m not even sure how to go about getting it, but I’ll figure it out.
It just got me wondering what she would think of me now, five years later, as I’m about to graduate from university. I’ve survived this long believing she’s proud of me and somehow knows what I’ve accomplished since she’s been gone.
What kind of relationship would we have? How often would we talk, email, text and visit? What would I ask her for advice about? Would I be annoyed by how involved she is in my life? Would I take her for granted?
They’re questions which can never be answered, but also questions I think about to figure out where I fit among my peers – especially as I continue to discuss and write about Gen Y, who seem to have such deep relationships with their parents.
What kind of relationships do you have with your parents?
Tags: Mom, motherless daughter
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February 20th, 2009 at 2:16 pm
The relationship with my parents, especially my mother, has grown exponentially since graduating from college. The woman I once saw as overbearing and uncool suddenly became normal and easy to relate to.
I’m assuming that we both changed, but I probably changed more. My priorities aren’t the same (obviously) and I’ve been able to see the difficult life she’s led in order to provide for me in a different light.
I am sorry to hear about your mother. That is certainly a hard challenge to adapt to. As with any challenge, I’m certain it’s made you stronger, but it’d be hard to ignore the questions you’ve brought up in your post. Thanks for sharing. Your honesty motivates me to be more appreciative of my own mother.
February 20th, 2009 at 3:31 pm
My father died of cancer when I was young. I didn’t understand what it meant until the next day, and the day after that, and every day after that. How my life would be defined more by his absence than his presence.
Great post, and I guess I just wanted to say I understand just a little.