MEMOIR NOTES #8: Research and Revelations-The Hidden History of My Mother
How a greeting card from two decades ago helped me find one of my mother's best friends from childhood and opened a doorway to stories I had never heard
The Memoir Notes is a series of real-time notes inside Heart’s Content documenting my process as I write my memoir. I share story drafts with my private community in each month’s intimate, bonus newsletter for paid subscribers. Join us if you want to follow along in real time, read what I’m writing, and chat with us about it. I hope it might also encourage you to write and heal your own story.
Hi, Friend:
I’m sitting in a new-to-me coffee shop in Loveland and I just ordered a macadamia nut/toffee almond milk latte that tastes like a vacation. I need something sweet as I take notice of the complicated feeling swirling inside me after receiving a text from one of my deceased mother’s closest childhood friends. I was wrapping up a dental appointment and standing in the payment line when out of the blue, my mom’s childhood friend texted me six black and white photos of my mother. Photos I have never seen before save one.
I pay my bill and take ten steps to the sanctuary of my car.
I climb into the driver's seat, settle in, and take a deep breath.
Mama.
I open her friend Dinah’s text and begin breathing in the black and white photos of her - so young, soft, and innocent, with her crooked bangs. I love this little girl fiercely. I cannot help myself. Part of me wanted to swoop in and rescue her from what was to come. From what was to come for me as well. From how our story will evolve.
I scroll to a new photo and I see myself in her face, which is a first since I mostly look like my father’s side of the family. ( I take a long swig of my vacation latte.) My G-d, she is precious and I love her without reservation, without counting the cost, without any tally sheet of right and wrongs.
Before Mama eloped at the age of 15, she had a group of girlfriends in Shreveport. LA who were "thick as thieves” as Mama would say. They were inseparable. They spent most every weekend together and even had their mamas sew matching dresses for the first day of the school year each year.
I had heard the names of Mama’s girlfriends - Dinah, Joylynn, Dottie - but I had never met them or at least so I thought. But I came to learn recently that they had many memories of my mama to share, and of me as well.
RESEARCH: FINDING DINAH
Back in June of this year, I decided to temporarily pause writing stories from my past. I felt the need to stop and survey the landscape of what I had already written. I dug through our basement storage room and brought out the plastic bin that held all my old journals from high school, college and beyond. I had just begun looking through the bin when I came across a file folder with random notes and cards I had kept. It was then that I found a condolence card from Dinah after the passing of my maternal grandfather in 2005. It read:
“Dear Mary,
You don't remember me - but I was good friends with your mom back in the 1950s and early 1960s. We dressed alike, and spent nights with each other- we had such fun with each other and our best friends Joylynn and Dottie
I have had this picture of you for years and thought you might enjoy having it. Your mom had given it to me and I think of her so often - I would love to know if you ever hear from her.
We were so sorry to hear that your grandfather had passed away. I have such great memories as a young girl spending time with your family. They were so dear to all of us. If you have any news about your mom I'd sure love to hear from you.
Sincerely, Dinah
P.S . When you were a baby, all of us girls loved taking you places with us.”
Almost 20 years ago when I received this card, I wasn’t emotionally ready to talk to anyone about my mom and why she had disappeared. Especially someone I didn’t really know. I didn’t have any answers back then and it was painful to talk about her. It felt like an open wound with no way of healing. Plus, I was still protective of her even though she’d abandoned us. I had no idea where she was or if she was even alive. and I didn’t want to say those words aloud. Plus, I was reeling from the loss of my grandfather, so, I tucked the card away.
Now in 2023, after much work and healing, I stumbled across the card again.
I had long forgotten about it. It felt like a true gift arriving back in my life now that I was longing for any clues about my mom; any stories, missing pieces, some way to know her more fully. Missing puzzle pieces that could show a clearer picture.
I prayed Dinah was still reachable at the number she’d written on the card. I tried it but there was no answer. I took to Facebook and in less than 24 hours, Dinah and I were messaging back and forth. We set up a phone call to talk. She was as excited to reconnect with me as I was to her. I desperately longed for stories of my mother from people who knew her and her life before I was born.
From my journal: June 5, 2023:
“I am overcome with feeling. I want to dance and I want to collapse and cry.
I have finally found someone who knew and was close to Mama as a young woman. By gathering my keepsakes/journals/notes over the years into one place and beginning to skim through them for clues, I found one card in a file folder from decades ago.
I just wasn’t ready back then… I couldn’t face talking about my mom then - only a few years before we finally found her. And then, well, soon afterward, she died.
But now I have found one of her oldest, best friends…
Tell me I’m not being guided….”
REVELATIONS
On June 7, I spoke with Dinah for over an hour and a half. I could barely hold myself together hearing the sweet stories of my mama as a girl and of their friendship. Dinah is such a generous and understanding soul. Her voice exuded kindness and compassion. We laughed, we cried, and we answered many of each other questions. She filled in many gaps for me from my early childhood. I filled her in on what had happened to Mama in her later years. It was evident that Dinah and the other gals loved my mom, and later me, and she shared many memories of happy times with me as a baby. All these stories were brand new to me.
We wrapped up the call with Dinah asking if I ever came back to Shreveport and if so, could we meet up. Of course, I said, I’d love that. She said the other gals were going to be so excited to hear that she had connected with Mary Kate and how she hoped I could come out to her house where she would gather the others and tell me stories about my mom. She promised to look for all the photos of their years together to show me and that she’d make us chicken salad sandwiches and tell me all their stories. It’s like stepping into my own version of The Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood. ( Side note, I’ve always loved this book and film.)
It’s an abundance of support.
Through stories from Dinah, I could hear about a young girl who happened to be my mom, who was (at least outwardly) flourishing, full of life, vital, fun, funny, and intelligent.
When I look at those snapshots of her as a child, they reveal an innocent girl, just as I once was. It helps to balance the grief, anger, and fear I have long attached to my relationship with her. And just as I've grown to love the child within me; I can extend that same affection to the little girl she used to be. We can meet in that space.
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about…”
- Rumi
There is so much more to this particular story, but it will likely become a chapter in the book. I haven’t been able to attend this gathering yet, but I hope to be able to do so soon. Other pressing family matters have kept me from being able to focus on this meeting, but I do hope I can make it happen before the new year. Until then, Dinah sends me treasures of photos. Riches I cannot begin to count.
xo Mary
3 THINGS WORTH SHARING:
Hospital Playlist on Netflix. Surgeons, best friends, and they have a band. It's an unlikely mix that is pure magic. Korean storytelling has a lot to teach us.
Why Father’s Cry At Night by Kwame Alexander. “Part cookbook, part jazz concert, 100% a deep and moving love song of a memoir.” - Jaqueline Woodson
Happy September! This weekend Ron and I attended the Windsor Fall Festival Balloon Launch. Watching these balloons inflate, lift off, and soar, never gets old!
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© Copyright 2023 by Mary Thoma
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Oh, Mary, how wonderful that you were able to connect with Dinah when you were ready! What a gift to be able to see the photos and hear the stories about your mom and about you. The teachers and messages appear when we’re ready. Thank you for sharing this and the photos with us!