If My Mother Could Live Again, What Would I Ask Her?

My mother died on April Fool's Day in 1993. She was only 72. I was still in my early 30s - too young to lose a mother's lifetime of wisdom.

My arrival into this world was a disappointment. Although, I arrived with all my fingers and toes, she really had her heart set on another boy. I was a rebel from birth and a lot more energetic (boisterous and less obedient) than my older sister and brother.

I would never be her favorite -- at least, not beyond an afternoon. I brought home my elementary school report cards with good academic grades but marched down to the basement to receive punishment for poor conduct. When I acted up (often), she threatened to take me to the orphanage. In fact, she was eager to give me away to the Principal's secretary who spoke fondly of children despite being childless. She reminded me of Edith Bunker (All in the Family). I was never able to warm up to either her or Archie's Edith.

As I move beyond the half-century mark, I find myself thinking more and more about my mother.

A survivor of the Turkish attempt at an Armenian genocide during 1915-1923, she moved from her birthplace of Aintab (a former heavily Armenian-occupied town in Turkey); to Aleppo, Syria; and then to Beirut, Lebanon. In 1949, she immigrated to the United States. She arrived with an eighth-grade education, a lot of spunk and vigor, a sense of humor, and big dreams.

Marrying shortly before her visa expired, she settled in America, raised three children with the values of hard work and determination. She raised in each of us the confidence to achieve.

She didn't talk much about the "old country." However, when I questioned her enough, she'd share a few joyful childhood memories in "Haleb" (Aleppo). And when she moved to Beirut she shared stories of her two sisters (she was in the middle). She talked of the young Frenchman with a mustache who kept calling for her.

With a grown-up's hindsight, I believe, she hoped for a much better life. It's not that my father didn't provide for us. I think she was looking to marry a professional who would sweep her off her feet. She was truly a kind person. Even the animals loved her--whether a mastiff, a feral cat, a squirrel, pigeon, or even a skunk, she was the original Animal Whisperer.

Sadly, she died from heart failure after suffering from a weakened heart for thirteen years. The medications kept her alive, but took away her hope for the future. She was the first person in my life who died without reconciling her regrets. She died depressed and unhappy.

And yet, I have fond memories of her.

If I could ask her a few questions, they would be:

1. Did you hear Grandma and Grandpa ever talk about what it was like when you were driven out into the Syrian Desert during the attempted genocide?


2. What did you like about how your parents raised you? What didn't you like?


3. Do you think the reason you wanted another boy is because you were one of three sisters?


4. Did you ever wonder how I might feel knowing you were trying to get rid of me?


5. I'd also ask her more personal questions about being a woman during a time when women did not talk openly about life's transitions. How did you cope with your hot flashes?


6. Finally, given what you know, what advice do you have for how I am living my life, today?

At this time in my life, I would actually LISTEN to my mother's answers.

Mother's Day is a wonderful time to get to know what your mother thinks about what's on your mind. There will come a day when, like me, you can only wonder.