As my mother grew older she became so sentimental that her thoughts often brought tears to her eyes. She would think about her mother and suddenly she was crying, not in a sad way but in delightful remembrance of her relationship with her mom. She would speak of my father and her voice would begin to break. She watched Kermit the Frog singing Rainbow Connection and her eyes filled with the moist reaction that the song always gave her. 

I have tended to be stoic. While she wept with either joy or sorrow, I maintained my composure. I sometimes wondered if I would be able to brush my emotions aside if I allowed them to run free. I was the one with dry eyes at a funeral who then went home and cried for hours. While I sensed that my way of reacting to both good and bad things was not mentally healthy, I maintained my brave front by telling myself that nobody wanted to see someone fall apart. 

As I have aged I have changed, not just in appearance but it the ways that I handle my emotions. For the most part I no longer worry about either aspect of my being. I let my hair fly away and meet the public sans makeup. So too do I let my feelings express themselves as fully as they need to do. I find myself shedding tears during movies, while reading books and articles, and in front of others. I tell people that in my senior years I have become my mother and it actually feels so freeing. 

When I was decorating my Christmas tree this year my tear ducts were cleansed over and over again as I recounted the stories that each cherished bauble brought to mind. There were the Santa and Mrs Santa ornaments that my friend, Pat, bought for me at a quilt show long ago. There was the homemade ornament made from a Christmas card that featured a photo of my friend Linda’s two sons, Scott and Brian. There was the concrete orb that my son-law created in an engineering class act the University of Texas. There was the memento of our dog Red that my youngest daughter Catherine made when she was just a child. Ornaments that Marita brought to us from her vacation trips around the world made me sniffle as I thought of how much I miss sharing holidays with her. A host of Santas and silver bells from Cappy filled the barren limbs of the tree lighting up the branches with each one that I placed gently on display. 

As Christmas music played and I remembered all the Christmases past and the joys that they had brought me I felt the wonder of having an incredible life in spite of roadblocks and tragedies along the way. Each token was assigned to a person or event that was so delightful. I remembered reading the Harry Potter books and then donning decorations of Harry, Hermione and Hagrid on my tree. I smiled at the images of my friend Lisa’s two sons and those my grandchildren when they were just children. I laughed at my sparkling image of Bernie Sanders sitting with his hands encased in mittens with a mask on his face during the inauguration of Joe Biden. I recalled the fun we had at Christmas time when we visited Disney World and I purchased a set of Cinderella trinkets that have graced my tree ever since. I thought of one of the best Christmases ever when we travelled to Austria with Monica and Franz and they introduced me to the annual snowflake ornaments from Swarovski. Nothing anywhere on the tree did not evoke a momentary response that surfaced in the tear ducts of my eyes. 

It took me a long time to accept the moments when I lose my composure and bow to the demands of my feelings. I don’t linger in the sentimentality for too long but I always feel real when I do. For me the lighting of the Christmas tree is symbolic of my many years on this earth and the people and places and events that I have enjoyed. I would not trade the variety of it for anything. It provides an annual day of remembrance to me that is priceless. 

I know that times change and life moves forward. I have had to accept the inevitability of losing friends and family members over and over again. I’m trying to make the most of each day that remains for me with grace and love and even forgiveness for angry words. I like that I have finally become my mother.