Why Connie's Daughter?

I love my mom. And I haven't had the privilege of telling her that in person in 31 years, as she died at Thanksgiving when I was in my very early twenties. When I was too young to know much and thought I knew everything. My dad had died when I was seven and so my mom and I were very close. I was her "spittin' image" and proud to be "Connie's daughter." But as often happens with mothers and daughters, we grew apart when I was in my teens.

My mom was troubled at that time, and so I set out to make a life of my own. I was determined to not make the same mistakes that she had; this was something in which she'd encouraged me at every turn. Along the way, I shed the identity of "Connie's daughter." I was my own person, or so I thought.

My first son was born in December of the year following my mom's death. Wow, I never knew...I never knew what it must have been like for my mom to be a mom! My appreciation of her has only grown through the years. I have a lot more kids than my mom; I think she'd have really enjoyed her grandchildren! I know she would have adored my husband.

It's been years since anyone has called me "Connie's daughter." Probably most of my moms' friends have now joined her at the heavenly banquet, so there's really no one save a couple of distant aunts and uncles who might think of her when seeing me. But I think of her often. I am deeply grateful to my mother for handing on the Faith, and especially giving me a love of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. I'm so glad she shared with me her passion for literature and good music! She was a connoiseur of the English language; maybe there's a gene for that: my eldest was an English major and two more of my sons aspire to be writers.

Calling myself "Connie's daughter" is a way to pay tribute to my mom. It's a way to make her more present and to acknowledge the role she has had--in life and in death--in shaping who I am. It seems fittng as I embark on blogging to once again embrace being Connie's daughter.