by Hope Edelman
I knew nothing about redwoods, except what my mother had told me about their size—which was pretty accurate in Muir Woods. I’d never seen trees so tall. As the Klauses and I shuffled through the ferns and sorrel, we reached a small, odd group of redwoods growing in a circle around a charred stump. The burned trunk stood maybe six feet high, but the trees surrounding it were young and healthy. Park rangers call these clusters “the family circle.” The less botanically inclined call them the mother tree and her daughters.
This is why: In the redwood ecosystem, buds for future trees are contained in pods called burls, tough brown knobs that cling to the bark of the mother tree. When the mother tree is logged, blown over, or destroyed by fire—when, in other words, she dies—the trauma stimulates the burls’ growth hormones. The seeds release, and trees sprout around her, creating the circle of daughters. The daughter trees grow by absorbing the sunlight their mother cedes them when she dies. They receive the moisture and nutrients they need from their mother’s root system, which remains intact underground even after her leaves die. Although the daughters exist independently of their mother above ground, they continue to draw sustenance from her underneath.
For years, I searched for my mother in the air or the cosmos around me. I kept forgetting to look under my feet. The foundation she gave me in my first seventeen years was a solid one. If it hadn’t been, I don’t think I could have managed on my own after she died.
I’ve now been without a mother for much longer than I had one. Before long, my time as a mother of daughters will exceed the amount of time I spent as my mother’s daughter. This is how healing works. Years pass. Pain dulls. Lived experience begins to supplant memory. Details blur. But we never forget.
Three years ago, my husband and I took our daughters on a four-day road trip from Los Angeles to southern Oregon. In Humboldt County, California, we took a short detour off Highway 101 to drive the Avenue of the Giants through 51,000 acres of redwood groves. As my husband maneuvered us along the narrow ribbon of shady road, I sat in the back seat between my daughters and told them about the postcards my mother had brought home to New York, and how I hadn’t believed her when she said a car could drive through a tree. My older daughter, Maya, said she didn’t believe it, either. A few miles up the road, we came upon the Shrine Tree, and saw that my mother’s story had been true.
The photograph I have now shows our big white car emerging from a huge slit in a massive redwood trunk, my husband and Maya waving crazily from the front seats. As I took the photo from the side of the road, I tried to imagine my mother standing alongside the same tree, her hand raised in the same playful wave she gave the camera in 1974. She could have been saying hello. She could have been saying goodbye. Or she could have just been saying, “Hey, you. Remember me?”
Always.
Time alters some things. It beautifully preserves others. The words that closed the first edition of Motherless Daughters are just as relevant today as they were in 1994:I am fooling only myself when I say that my mother exists now only in the photograph on my bulletin board or in the outline of my hand or in the armful of memories I still hold tight. She lives on beneath everything I do. Her presence influenced who I was, and her absence influences who I am. Our lives are shaped as much by those who leave us as they are by those who stay. Loss is our legacy. Insight is our gift. Memory is our guide.
Appendix A
Motherless Daughters Survey
Between September 1992 and October 1993, 154 motherless women participated in a mail questionnaire. These are the results of that survey:1. How old are you now?18 to 29—19%
30 to 39—30%
40 to 49—29%
50 to 59—12%
60 to 69—3%
70 and older—7%
2. What is your profession?Results indicated:
78% employed outside the home
10% homemakers
7% retired
5% students
marital status?
49% married
32% single14
16% divorced or separated
3% widowed
educational level?
3% less than high school
29% high school
68% college and postcollege
state of residence?
34 states and the District of Columbia
race? (optional)
89% Caucasian
8% African American
2% Latina
1% Native American and Asian American
religion? (optional)
22% Protestant
16% Jewish
13% Catholic
6% atheist and agnostic
4% Unitarian
1% Muslim
16% other
22% none
3. Do you have children?55% yes
45% no
grandchildren?
18% yes
82% no
4. How old were you when your mother died or left?32% 12 or younger
42% 13 to 19
26% 20 or older
5. If your mother died, what was the cause of death?44% cancer
10% heart failure
10% accident
7% suicide
3% pneumonia
3% infectious diseases
3% childbirth, abortion, miscarriage
3% kidney failure
3% cerebral hemorrhage
2% alcoholism
2% overdose
2% aneurysm
1% stroke
7% other or unknown
6. If your mother left or disappeared, what were the circumstances?No respondents in this survey reported abandonment as a cause of loss.
7. Did you have any siblings at the time?85% yes
15% no
What sex and ages were they then?
Results indicated:
28% of respondents were oldest children
25% middle children
31% youngest children
15% only children
1% twins
8. Were your parents married, divorced, or separated at the time?80% married
11% divorced
2% separated
1% never married
6% of the mothers had been widows
9. Did your father remarry?59% yes
41% no
If yes, how soon after your mother’s death?
58% 0-2 years later
25% 2-5 years
12% 5-10 years
5% 10 years or more
The following questions are multiple-choice format. Please circle the letter(s) that best describes your feelings.
10. The loss of my mother was:a. the single most determining event of my life—34%
b. one of the most determining events of my life—56%
c. a determining event of my life—9%
d. not a determining event of my life—1%
11. If you answered a, b, or c to question 10, when did you begin to realize the loss of your mother was influencing your development?a. immediately—47%
b. less than 5 years after the loss—14%
c. 5 to 10 years after the loss—14%
d. 10 to 20 years after the loss—12%
e. more than 20 years after the loss—12%
f. it has not influenced my development—1%
12. How often do you think about your own mortality?a. all of the time—9%
b. most of the time—20%
c. some of the time—69%
d. never—2%
13. Please write in the number that best describes the degree to which you fear or have feared the following, with 1 = a lot, 2 = somewhat, and 3 = not at all.a. routine check-ups or annual exams17% a lot
40% somewhat
43% not at all
b. getting the same disease or mental impairment as your mother36% a lot
40% somewhat
24% not at all
c. the yearly anniversary of your mother’s death20% a lot
34% somewhat
46% not at all
d. reaching the age your mother was when she died29% a lot
35% somewhat
36% not at all
e. the death of your remaining parent, if still alive29% a lot
36% somewhat
35% not at all
f. having children27% a lot
24% somewhat
49% not at all
g. other (please specify)1. Death of loved ones
2. Leaving children motherless
3. Dying young
14. How would you describe your current relationship with your father, if he is still alive?a. excellent—13%
b. good—33%
c. fair—23%
d. poor—31%
15. Did you find a mother substitute after your mother died or left?63% yes
37% no
If yes, who?
33% aunt
30% grandmother
13% sister
13% teacher
13% friend
9% neighbor
7% stepmother
16. Would you say your mourning period for your mother is:a. fully completed—16%
b. partially completed—53%
c. not at all complete—27%
d. never begun—4%
17. How much do you know about your mother’s life?a. a great deal—30%
b. some—44%
c. very little—26%
d. nothing—0%
From where did you get this information?a. members of the immediate family—63%
b. members of the extended family—40%
c. friends—21%
d. mother herself—30%
18. Can you identify any positive results of your early loss?75% yes
25% no
These next questions require short answers. Please keep your responses to one or two paragraphs.
19. How would you describe your current attitude toward separation and/or loss?
20. Which do you feel affected you more: the actual loss of your mother or the subsequent changes in your family? Please explain.
21. How, if at all, has your loss affected your romantic relationships?
22. If you are a parent, do you think the loss of your mother affected your parenting? How?If you are not a parent, what are or were your thoughts about having children?
23. What are some of the coping mechanisms you have used over the years to manage without a mother?
24. When do you miss your mother the most?
25. Please tell us about a specific experience you’ve had that illustrates what it meant for you to be a motherless daughter. We will try to include some of these anecdotes in the book.
Appendix B
Resources
The following organizations offer support, social events, or both for motherless daughters. Additional resources and news about upcoming groups and events are added and updated frequently at www.motherlessdaughters.net and www.motherlessmothers.com.
Motherless Daughters of Los Angeles
P.O. Box 64373
Los Angeles, CA 90064
310-474-2208
www.motherlessdaughtersbiz.com
Contact: Irene Rubaum-Keller, MFT
Motherless Daughters of Orange County (MDOC)
9053 Suva St.
Downey, CA 90242
562-862-6653
[email protected]
www.motherlessdaughtersoc.com
Contact: Mary Felix
Metro Detroit Motherless Daughters (MDMD)
45333 Kensington
Utica, MI 48317
586-337-3110
[email protected]
www.metrodetroitmotherlessdaughters.net
Contact: Vicki Waldron
Motherless Daughters of Chicago
Chicago, IL
773-233-5460 (Chicago)
630-424-8081 (western suburbs)
[email protected]
Contacts: Ruta Grigola (Chicago); Dawn Klancic (western suburbs)
Motherless Daughters of New England
Boston, MA
[email protected]
http://motherlessdaughtersofnewengland.intranets.com
Contact: Linda Mills
Circle of Daughters
4637 Ironwood Dr.
Hamburg, NY 14075 (Buffalo area)
716-627-4934
[email protected]
www.circleofdaughters.com
Contact: Day Cummings, CSW, RN
Mommy’s Light Lives On
P.O. Box 494
Lionville, PA 19353
www.mommyslight.org
(for girls ages 3 to 18)
Motherless Daughters of Switzerland
(Toechter ohne Muetter)
Winterthur, Switzerland
41 (0)52 243 18 40
[email protected]
www.geocities.com/prettyswiss/Toechter_ohne_Muetter.html
(in German)
Contact: Andrea Allen
The Motherless Mothers Foundation—Israel
(Imahot L’lo Imahot)
C/o Rahav
Grizim 7, Apt. 2
Tel Aviv, Israel
972 54 471-4044
972 54 442-5856
[email protected]
www.motherlessmother.org.il
(Hebrew and English)
Contacts: Julie Rahav; Shoshanit Lupo Feigenberg
To find a bereavement group near you for children, teens, or family members, contact:
The Dougy Center for Grieving Children & Families
3909 SE 52nd Ave.
Portland, OR 97206
866-775-5683
[email protected]
Or use the “Center Locator” option at www.dougy.org, which lists more than three hundred bereavement centers in the United States, Canada, and seven other countries.
Appendix C
Motherless Daughters in Literature
Over the years, many readers have asked me to write more about the circumstances surrounding their specific types of loss. Although an in-depth discussion of every type of mother loss is beyond the scope of a single book, many excellent memoirs and novels feature female protagonists who for many different reasons are motherless at various ages. These include such classics as To Kill a Mockingbird, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, Their Eyes Were Watching God, Anne of Green Gables, Pippi Long-stocking, Emma, Persuasion, and the entire Nancy Drew series. (For nineteenth-century motherless protagonists, pick up virtually anything by George Eliot or the Brontë sisters.)
What follows is a list—by no means comprehensive—of books published in the last twenty-five years that feature real-life and fictional motherless daughters. If one of your favorites isn’t listed here, please send the title, author, and a brief synopsis of the book to [email protected] for inclusion in an online list.
Memoirs
Cournos, Francine. City of One (2000). Fatherless at three, then motherless at eleven, the author grows up in foster homes, always looking for a place to belong. Now a psychoanalyst and happily married mother, she looks back at the feelings of abandonment and depression that she managed to overcome.
Di Mari, Christina. Ocean Star (2006). The daughter of a neglectful, depressed mother and a violent fater with a checkered past, Christina grows up in 1960s and 1970s San Francisco with help from her Italian-American extended family and a strong connection to God. Close sibling relationships, lifelong friendships, and a stable, loving husband also help her find her way.
Epstein, Helen. Where She Came From (1997). After the death of her mother, a Holocaust survivor, the journalist Helen Epstein travels to the Czech Republic to uncover details of her family’s past. She weaves together a history of three generations of Jewish women, including the story of her grandmother Pepi, who, at age eight, lost her mother to suicide.
Hammer, Signe. By Her Own Hand: Memoirs of a Suicide’s Daughter (1991). Hammer was nine when her mother committed suicide in
the kitchen of the family home. Now an adult battling chronic depression, she plumbs family memory for the roots of her mother’s ailment as well as her own.
Felman, Jil Lynn. Cravings (1997). The author, the third daughter in a Jewish Midwestern family, writes of mother loss as an adult, and the cravings for food, love, and women that have shaped her life.
Fox, Paula. Borrowed Finery (reprinted 2002). Abandoned as a baby by her biological parents, Fox is raised by a constantly changing cast of eccentric relatives and strangers, including a kindly Congregational minister. At twenty-one, she surrenders her own daughter for adoption, to be reunited many years later.
Goodwin, Doris Kearns. Wait Till Next Year (1998). A young female Dodgers fan grows up in 1940s and 1950s Brooklyn. Her childhood is idyllic until her mother dies and her father—an early orphan himself—sinks into despair.
Harrison, Kathryn. The Kiss (1997). A few years after losing her mother, the author meets, and becomes sexually involved with, the biological father she never knew.
______. The Mother Knot (2004). The author, now a mother of three, comes to terms with her mother’s death and legacy in this slim, elegant memoir.
Karbo, Karen. The Stuff of Life (2003). Karbo was a teenager when her mother died of cancer. When her stoic, uncommunicative father is diagnosed with lung cancer, Karbo, now a mother of two, shuttles back and forth between her home in Oregon and his trailer in Nevada. He’s a terrible patient and she’s a self-doubting nursemaid, but they find their own common ground.