My mother was Lillian, and she was a beautiful woman. Tall, wispy and quite glamorous, with highly styled blond hair, she had a smile that could light up the universe. Sadly, she never saw herself in that light, and never felt the warmth she projected. She suffered from serious mental illness and lived and died a tortured lady. But she taught my two sisters, Michele and Mindy, and me, the value of a smile and a kind word. We are all nurturers and supporters, cheerleaders and good friends. Sometimes we learn from modeling and sometimes we learn as a reaction. Hopefully, we take from our parents their best qualities, and it is our responsibility to live the life that will bring us the most happiness.

I loved my mother dearly, and I am sure she loved me, although neither of us ever felt secure in each other’s love…such is the crime of mental illness. To this day, I still wonder what would have been had she not had so many demons to confront and fight, and could have given in to her value as our mother. Lillian was a complicated lady, but love usually is; I have said her name a million times in my life, wondering what I could have done to let her know how important she was. I believe I have finally found the way to do so.

Many ostomates name their stomas (the opening attached to our abdomens which allows the passage of either stool or urine into our pouch) and feel it helps in the acceptance of their new anatomy. “Rosie” is very common because the healthy stoma looks like a rosebud, in shape and color. My stoma is named Lily. I always say she is named for my mother, Lillian, who gave me my first life, and Lily has absolutely given me my second life! Sometimes when I am caring for and checking on Lily, I offer my respect and admiration for the job she does, every second of every day, just as mothers so often do. Hence, I offer my honor, gratitude and appreciation for my mother, something I had a difficult time doing when she was alive, too hurt to say those words.

I have learned many lessons in life, which is a statement I believe most of my generation would make, as well. The one that most serves me, however, is that because “perfection” comes from recognizing our “imperfection” we are free to accept ourselves and others as they are. My mother did all she could with what she had; I did the same. Lillian, like Lily, will be with me for the rest of my life, and I choose to feel her love and support. I will continue to live imperfectly, to love imperfectly, and to support imperfectly…just like all of us!