I have spent so much time analyzing and chiseling away at the core of the relationship between my mother and myself that I realized I have overlooked the other, quite important, mother figure in my adult life; Patricia McGauran.
Yes, Pat is the same woman I wrote about in my last post, my future-mother-in-law, but there was no room to include our story, and the critical role she played as a maternal mentor. From pretty much the first day I met her, I saw how her single goal was to always pour her heart into her family. For me, this was something new.
This may or may not be a reveal to regular readers here, but my husband, Dennis, is 13 years older than me.
With our age difference, we used to say that we were the bookends of the Baby Boomer generation. Our age difference didn’t matter to us. We traveled together, attended art fairs, and concerts. We spent time on many lakes and had common senses of humor where we laughed until either of us might be pounding the kitchen table pleading, “Please, stop repeating that funny part.”
When Dennis proposed, I told him that one of his primary responsibilities in our marriage was to be sure to make me laugh every day. He still references that 38 years later, and still accomplishes it.
When Dennis told his mother that he was dating someone younger, she didn’t realize how much younger. When she eventually met me, she had told Dennis later, “She is very nice, but she is SO young.” Her concern was justified. Dennis had a 10-year-old son, Andy, and, at age 26, I had no experience with children. Andy stayed with Dennis during the week, and with his mom on the weekends.
I easily gravitated to Pat; her natural warmth, nurturing attitude, how unassuming she was, and pretty much everything my mother was not able to be.
She enjoyed researching astrological charts for friends and family. She did my chart once and mailed it to me with a letter sharing, “Believe it or not, I have tried twice to type up this horoscope on different typewriters and both times, the typewriter broke down. This tells me that either this is not a good horoscope or I am a lousy typist.” We had a good time together. And in time, she saw my earnestness to be a good stepmom, and we grew even closer.
In time, our son Will arrived, and learning from Pat took on a whole new depth; I was raising my son from that first day, and I was going to need some help.
“I hope you know you are my role model,” I shared one day, and I think that touched her.
Pat and Dick arrived at our home about two weeks after Will was born. They wanted to help us with cooking and cleaning to tending to Will in the overnight hours. Can you imagine someone turning 70 offering that? It was a lesson in unconditional love for us and the baby.
I will also always remember getting ready to bathe Will for the first time. Initially, I had used just a warm washcloth because it was important for the umbilical cord to drop away and heal first, but now it was time to place him in some warm water, with soap in a baby “tub” which held him semi-upright. And here’s the truth (and don’t laugh) but I was actually reading instructions from a book while I did it.
Yes, it was open to the page on bathing, and I had Will in the tub as I moved through the steps. This is how ignorant I was about such things, and how important it was to me to get everything right.
Here’s where I really loved Pat. Although the book surprised her, she never said a word. Instead of offering suggestions or taking over, she remained quiet and let me figure it out. If I needed her though, she was close. She was a wise woman.
And she constantly showed that signature bottomless love for her family. She was there when someone needed her — children or grandchildren; always. When her daughter’s cancer returned, she instantly moved closer to be with her. Although she was strong when Linda died, it was clear the cancer had taken some of Pat too. Though slightly diminished, her instincts didn’t change a bit, and she continued on.
I can recognize that my mother loved me and my sister, Heidi, but it was difficult to pull it out from her (she had once said to me she wasn’t comfortable saying “I love you” on the phone, could I stop? I agreed.) And although that love was there, it felt like there was a very well-defined bottom to it. Heidi and I understood that.
I needed to know other ways on how “mother” could look like, so I opened myself up to Pat and her words and instincts to take in whatever she could show me. And I marvel at the outcome.
We were so sad when she passed away in 2016, but she had lived for 94 years.
And nine years later, we are returning to Pat stories.
This is because Dennis and I learned in early August that we are going to be grandparents. Our daughter-in-law, Allison, is due in early February. They shared it will be a boy. Gosh, talk about a full circle.
We are ecstatic about the news. And now I am excited to see what “grandmother” looks like. Thanks to Pat, I’m ready.
Photo by Markus Winkler on Pexels.com
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