When I miss my mother, it is most often in the car. Perhaps because when we're in our cars, we're on our own, yet surrounded by others. It's a time when we're very alone with our thoughts, without other activities to keep us busy -- just keeping our eyes on the road, and letting our thoughts wander. It is at these times when I miss my mother most acutely. It is at these times when I break down and sob for the loss of my mother.
The weight of parental expectations can be a heavy burden to bear, and the relationship between mother and daughter most complicated of all. My mother taught me to be independent and strong-minded, and to make up my own mind about things. But she was upset when that same independence and strong-mindedness lead me away from the path she wanted for me. She steered me away from music as a career, but she lamented that "the most talented student of her career" wasted her talent. She taught me to believe in myself, to not put too much credence in the opinions of others, yet it was her frequent criticism that always hurt the most.
Yes, my relationship with my mother was complicated. But as I sat in my car today, returning from my voice lesson, I thought about how well my lesson had gone, and I thought of how much she would have enjoyed being there. I thought of the two of us making music together. Of all the times I practiced in the living room, and she'd stick her head in, potato in one hand, peeler in the other, and say, "Key signature, Tan!" Of all the time she took the time to take me to competitions and master classes all over the country, and how much fun we had together. And I missed her so intensely that I sat sobbing in my car, tears running down my face.
I miss you, Mom.