I am missing my mom today. As much as I complain about what I define as the general “lack of parenting” I experienced in my formidable years, I am old enough now to understand my mother did her best. In her defense (defending her against my own bias), as I have learned more about the woman who raised me, I have found plenty of room for grace, and in truth, never doubted her love for me, only her ability to bestow critical life lessons.
As I watched the services held over the past couple of weeks following the passing of Queen Elizabeth, I am struck by similarities amidst the vast economic and power differences my mother shared with the Queen. Like the Queen, my mother was born in 1926 and like the Queen, my mother died in the month September. That would pretty much sum up the similarities, but I could stretch the point a bit and add, like the Queen, my mother was unprepared for the responsibilities that came with ruling a nation.