Not A Dowry, or Inheritance

If you had asked me three years ago if I’d had an inheritance or a dowry, I would have laughingly shrugged my shoulders, and denied it.

Now I have become acutely aware that I had indeed inherited a bounty, albeit it not in currency, or precious possessions.

I was given something far more valuable, and it has taken me a lifetime to be aware of this gift. I was taught to balance on the seesaw of life by two loving, but totally different parents.

Dad was my hero, the Magician, who taught me to look for beauty everywhere. He never raised his voice, or his hand. If he was angry, it was apparent only by a quietness that shrouded his usual smile.

He insisted I not be afraid because he was aware I wore my fear like a cloak. “Jump in the water,” he would insist, “It is only cold for a minute.” Because I revered him, I did as he wanted, and found to my amazement he was right. The water is only cold for a second.

He left before he knew his grandchildren, and yet sometimes when one of the Fabulous Four smile or laugh or turn quickly, he seems there.

Mom and I clashed often and easily. I found her beautiful and strong and everything I was not. Yet without her magnitude of presence in my life, I could never have coped with the unexpected strikes of lightning that flash into everyone’s journey at some pivotal point.

My Mother never had the gentle presence of my Father. Rather her strong admonition was that not only could I do what she wanted, but I WOULD do as she wanted. It was many years later after leaving the family household before I understood that her urgent edicts weren’t for her needs or wants. Her vocal commands were for what she realized I needed to learn.....strength.

Feminism wasn’t a word in Mom’s vocabulary, yet she was its personification. Her moods were volatile. She evoked glamour without Botox or Chanel, yet even when wrapped in a cotton house dress, she never went without pearl earrings and scarlet lipstick.

During the years Dad quietly urged me never to fear; Mom practiced courage. In her twilight years after being widowed for almost four decades, she maintained the facade of independence reaching out to assist “old” women. Never once did she consider herself one of that group. Several hours before her unexpected demise, she maintained she had no fear of death, and I never for a minute doubted her.

I wonder now though. Which one of them was wearing the mask that wrapped the precious gift they both bequeathed their timid daughter? Because there is no way to estimate its value.