Sixty five years ago today.

(My mom and I, when I was pregnant with Cora.)

Sixty five years ago today, my mom was born. She would have been 65 today.

Margaret Cary Kauffman was born in Bethesda, MD. I don't know nearly enough about her childhood, but I know there was some moving about, due to being the daughter of a Naval officer. My grandfather had posts (that I know of) in the DC area, the Philippines, Hawaii, Indiana, and probably lots others. I believe he was still off at World War II when she was born.

She went to Punahoe high school in Hawaii, then National Cathedral School for Girls for her last 2 years. She went to a bunch of different colleges, changing her major some nine times.

She worked as a librarian, a social worker, an english teacher in another country, and a couple other jobs, plus grad school, before going to work for the federal government when I was in early elementary school. She continued to work for them, first for the Commerce Dept, then for USAID, until she passed away. She was ridiculously well-liked by the people she worked with. She also went back to school, attending seminary so that she could become a UU minister. She did her internship quarter-time, as the only clergy for a fledgling fellowship nearby, helping them grow over a number of years. She was ordained the same summer she was diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer, so she never got her "own" congregation.

She and my father separated and divorced when I was quite young. They just weren't right for each other at that point in their lives, though they had at other points, been ridiculously in love. I was a product of an intense and unique love. For my father, she has always been "the one who got away." My mother, even when she may have been mad at my father, was gracious and kind and knew that my father and I deserved a close parent-child relationship, too. My parents gave me something wonderful and lasting with their divorce and how they handled it. In addition to not screwing me up with the divorce, they gave me a template for how to co-parent successfully, without your child ever being exposed to any of the marital and post-marital hostility.

She parented me with grace and love and fun. She was uninhibited in her love of play, fierce in her defense and protection of me, and I never ever for a moment doubted how much she loved me. She sacrificed tremendously later in my childhood, giving primary school-year custody to my dad, because living in Seattle and with my dad and going to HNA was what was better for me. I was Cora's age when I made that change, and I can imagine how horrible a decision that was, to sacrifice her parenting time, to allow what was right for me.

We remained close even through my crazy late teen years, when I rebelled and kinda went off the deep end. She very cleverly gave me her calling card, so I could call her, or anyone long-distance, on her dime. She used the bills to keep track of where I was and with whom and when, clever mama! She never judged me, just kept on loving me and trusting that I'd come to my senses, and worrying, of course. I think it was that trust in me that kept me from going completely off the deep end. I knew that she knew I could always pull myself back from the precipice, so I did.

Once I got my act together, which she helped me do, we were even closer. We talked just about daily. She was a wonderful parent to a young adult me. She and I really enjoyed each other's company, even when we couldn't see each other much.

That same summer that she was ordained and diagnosed with cancer, I became pregnant with Cora. Initially, she wasn't supposed to live to see Cora born. Instead, she was at Cora's third birthday party.

She loved being a grandmother. I had a roommate who had 2 kids, and we raised them together, so my mother was thrilled to get three grandkids out of the deal! She was so proud of Cora and the others, she would brag about them constantly. Yet somehow, according to those who knew her apart from the family, she was never one of those boring grandmas when talking about Cora. Her enthusiasm was contagious. We (the whole family, me, Cora, my best friend, her two) had moved back to the DC area to be near my mom when Cora was just under a year old. My mother spent a lot of time with us, and with Cora. She babysat a couple of times a month, and we all spent lots of time together. She always told me what a great mother I was, and how proud she was of me. I think, again, her confidence in me was what gave me the confidence to be a good mother. When I don't feel the strength or ability to be a good mom, I try to tap into that reserve of her endless love of and confidence in my parenting. If she believed I could do it, I can. I really could use her right now. I miss her, and nothing can really replace the support I'd get from her right now. But hopefully, I can channel her strength and grace and make it through this.

My mother's life was her ministry. She blessed everyone in her life. When she died, just over 9 years ago, the very large church was full to overflowing with people whose lives she touched. But she was especially beloved by me. If I am ever half the mother and woman that she was, I will consider that my life has been an unmitigated success.