The Yellow Dish
My Mother was a beautiful woman. She had what we would jokingly call “The Me Book” because she would show it to people and say…”this is me and this is me, wasn’t I gorgeous?”
It’s true. She was gorgeous. She also had the voice of an angel. My mother was the complete package. Beauty, brains, and talent. Newspaper articles were written about her and called her the “Songbird of the West”. She had her own television show in the 50’s and sang for President Eisenhower at the White House. She loved the finer things in life and loved the color yellow. Which is why I am writing this story.
I was the only girl in the family, 3 brothers and a very patriarchal father. He taught his sons how to hunt, fish, and everything else manly. I begged my dad to teach me all those things as well. So I learned how to shoot a gun, catch and clean fish, and even gut a deer, but this story isn’t about my Dad. It’s about my Mom
Listen to a soundtrack of my Mother singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow
My Mother died Sept 17, 2013 surrounding by family while a recording of her singing “Somewhere over the Rainbow” played. Death wasn’t new to me. I watched my husband die in July of 2007. A nightmare of a night that broke me and my children. My Mom’s death was peaceful and I’m grateful that I got to be there to witness her transition.
We all cried that night. All my children surrounded me with love and compassion as I watch my own mother slip away. Our family believes in an afterlife so we all rejoiced at the reunion she was having on the other side yet grieving for those still left here on earth.
The next few days as we were planning the funeral, my brothers and I got together and started reminiscing about our mother. Wonderful stories they told, happy memories, loving memories. I looked at them and said…”We obviously had different mothers” and I found myself with an enormous sense of relief. Relief that I wouldn’t have to hear my mother criticize me anymore.
Sure there were good times with my mother and I loved her but what stands out in my memory are the criticism and the hateful comments directed at me. I was too thin, I needed to lose weight, I was too pale, I had too much make up on, I was frumpy. She didn’t like my new haircut, so I grew it out, she didn’t like that either. My hair was too straight, so I got a perm. Now it was too curly. I never received praise for the paintings I did. There was always a criticism about what I painted. I once painted a cantaloupe in a painting and she made the comment that nobody would buy a painting with a cantaloupe in it. Stupid little statements that were like a stone added to the weight that I already carried. I was in my late 30’s when my mother said to me one day, “Why Elizabeth, I didn’t realize how pretty you are”. I’m sure she meant it as a compliment but what I heard her say is that she never thought I was pretty. The heaviest stone she made me carry was the day she told me I was a horrible mother because my children didn’t walk the path that in her mind was the only path. I found that statement so ironic since 3 of her children didn’t walk the same path either but she didn’t see the hypocrisy or the hurt that statement caused. It’s one that has haunted me since that day.
Now comes the yellow dish story. My mother loved all things yellow. She had a yellow sink, yellow chairs, yellow couch, and a set of yellow dishes that rarely got used. She and her husband Ed, took a trip to England and there she found the yellow cabbage set of dishes complete with a soup terrine and a dip plate. I can remember when she first showed them to me. She was so excited and they made her so happy because they were yellow. Years later when we knew death was near I asked if I could have the yellow dish set when they passed. I wanted a tangible thing that reminded me of how happy my mom was with those dishes. I never really got an answer from her. I asked several times throughout the years. She always reverted to saying it was Ed’s decision since he was the one that bought them. The yellow dish set ended up in the estate sale when they were both gone. I could have bought them from the estate but that wasn’t the point. I wanted my mother to give me something. Give me something from a place of love and respect.
Me with my Mom and Grandma
Mom and Ed
Mom with my daughter, Brooke and yellow wallpaper behind them
Notice the yellow chairs behind my Mom
Since the day she died, I have been trying to reconcile my hurt feelings toward my mother. I painted my studio yellow in her honor. I have more yellow flowers in my garden than any other color. I paint yellow paintings. It’s these little things I do with the color yellow that is my way of saying I forgive you.
Fate or coincidence.
My good friend Shanna Kunz, and I were sitting out on my patio just a few days ago. We talk a lot about our childhood and how different we were raised. We talk art, we talk family, we talk about past hurt and pain. This particular day we were admiring all the yellow flowers in my garden and my yellow studio. For some reason I told Shanna the story about the yellow dish set. As Shanna so often does, she listened with her heart and told me that all the yellow I have in my life is my way of forgiving and honoring my mom.
One day later we were invited to a wonderful couples home for dinner to talk art. As we sat down to dinner, there were green cabbage plates on the table ready for food. I said “Shanna, these are like the yellow dish set I told you about only these are green”. John, our host said, “Did your mother have the yellow ones”. “YES ” I said. I proceeded to tell them about the yellow dish set that got sold at the estate sale. John got up from the table and went into their pantry closet. He came out with the yellow dip plate just like my mother had. I said, “Oh my gosh, that’s just like my mother’s.” John handed me the plate and said, “it’s yours.” They told me that they found it at a garage sale and it was only $5.00. They said they really didn’t know why they bought it because it didn’t match anything else they had but they thought it was pretty.
I can choose to think that this was just a coincidence or I can choose to think that this was my mother’s way of saying she was sorry for the hurt she caused me.
I choose to believe the latter.
So the next time you see a yellow painting by me, I hope you remember this story and the healing power of a yellow dish
Our love ones become much wiser when they cross over to the other side and I love the way they tell us things we long to hear!
Love you my friend! ❤️
thank you!
Dear Heart – you have come so far since those days. Forgiveness is a blessing and you have soared with the freedom it’s given you. You are a woman of many talents and you continually help others not only in painting but in life. Stay true to yourself-your are a beautiful person inside and out. Love you always — Kim
Thank you my friend
Thank you for sharing this beautiful story. I know you telling it straight from your heart, has and will, bless others as it has me.
Thank you Becky
Its interesting that our mothers were so jealous, always nit picking ..my mother was the same but when she was dying she told my sister she thought she would have done more with her life, just like Mickey. That is the first compliment she gave me.I didn’t realize till much later how jealous she was. Forgave her because I always loved her
Yes I agree. I think as my mother got older she felt insecure
Father God sees you,He knows you, He loves you, and you are every bit as beautiful as she was- even more so because you have a beautiful soul and heart
?❤️
Elizabeth,
I too do not believe in coincidences,
I believe the “ latter “ as well.
There is no doubt in my mind.
There is no doubt that my daughter, when deciding where to get married, or where her reception would eventually be, would not be by chance.
I would have never met you, nor would have been hypnotized when I saw your painting. My feelings for you, and the incredible gift you’ve been given, will forever be with me. You my dear, are the “Complete Package “
I love you dearly. Xxxxxxxxxx
Markelle,
There is no doubt in my mind that angels brought you into my studio at The Monarch. You are a blessing to me.
I loved your story, it’s good you wrote about it and can forgive –we all have stories of hurt, I always got my feelings hurt growing up and I am sure I have hurt my childrens feelings along the way. May God bless you always! He has blessed you with amazing talent, and amazing children!
Yes he has blessed me. ?❤️
Bless you!
Thank you ?
I can relate to this. I had issues with my mom as well. I don’t even miss her. She passed in 2006. Now my Dad is a different story.
You are beautiful person inside & out, and your a fantastic artist. So sad that your Mom wasn’t able to see that.
Have a wonderful day.
I’m so sorry you had that experience with your mom. ?
What a wonderful story Elizabeth! I might never think of yellow in the same way again. Brought a tear to my eye. I am so happy for you that this color has come to you to mean, as yellow often does, happy, enlightenment, understanding and forgiveness. Yellow, be it sunlight or spiritual light, does warm our hearts and souls which may be why your Mother loved it so.
All I can say is that your Mother, if she could see you now, would be so proud of the beautiful, smart and talented woman you are with all that you have accomplished – No matter what color you put on your brush it becomes a glorious thing of beauty under your command!
What a treasure that little plate is for you. My mother left me her Desert Rose Franciscan Ware dishes and I use them especially when I want to honor her – like dinner with my sisters and brother. Her kitchen was pink? probably like your Mother’s yellow. Sink, Stove, Oven and Fridge and a Built in China Cabinet showing off the Desert Rose dishes.
Your daughter Brooke looks so much like your Mother and all of your kids are beautiful people!
Happy Mother’s Day to you Dear friend you are also a wonderful Mom! ?
I am so happy you shared this story, and love the story of how you acquired that meaningful little dish.
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Thank you Susan. Yes Brooke does look like my mom
Love your story. I think maybe your relationship with your mom is what has made you so sensitive to others feelings. Love you Elizabeth. ???
Thank you ?❤️
Such a heartfelt story…one that is real and not so perfect. Life is messy. Relationships can be difficult. Thank you for your honesty and frankness…I was expecting this, perfect ending but thankfully…it was real! We all have issues with various people in our lives. We can love them to the moon and back but they can drive us crazy! Happy Mother’s Day…you are blessed with three lovely kids that I am sure you did your best raising…not perfect…but with love.
Thank you Laurie
I only know you through your beautiful paintings and videos, which always gave me a very pleasant ‘Idea’ of you. This story you have written about your childhood and your mother is very touching and brave. I feel like I know you a little more now, and I am glad that you shared. Happy Mothers Day to you! Sheila Wolff
Thank you and happy Mother’s Day
Your story brought tears to my eyes…..I had a rough time with my Mom, too. And being an only child didn’t help. My Dad and I walked on egg shells so as not to “set her off”. But no matter how bad things got, I always did right by her as you did with your Mom, and in the end we can look in the mirror and feel good about ourselves that we rose above it all and became better mothers to our children.
Everything in life, good and bad, makes you who you are. God bless…
Thank you Donna
Thank you for sharing. I was the second girl child. My older sister was the smart one, the pretty one and father’s favorite. However, my mother loved me and made me feel loved. There were five children in all. Each one of us have our own memories. I’m sorry that your mom belittled you. Mothers want so much from their children. They want them to do well and go out in the world and become winners. You obviously have.
My older sister turned away from my mother in her older years. Now she has Alzheimers Disease. She remembers very little.
I am so sorry about your sister Judy. I’m glad you had a mother that made you feel loved.
Elizabeth, I can totally empathize with your story. Your mom was the flip side to my father. My story’s a long one, and as I read your words I felt so many similar emotions, that you describe, well up. 20 years of therapy trying to reconcile feelings about someone who didn’t want me around, someone who felt I’d never measured up. I graduated, with honors, from USC, Vanderbilt, and taught at Yale. Didn’t make a dent with the old man because I didn’t go down the road he thought I should. It’s tough, having parents like that.
I so glad that dish found a way to you, absolute poetic justice. I appreciate your candor, honesty and most of all… your heart. You and Shanna paint from the heart. It’s easy to see and it’s beautiful.
Thanks Gary. I’m sorry you had a father like that. I know my mom loved me and I loved her. She just had a way of always finding the fault in me which became very upsetting as I got older.
Oops, typo! Where’s my proofreader?! *I’m so glad…
This story made me cry. I appreciate your bravery and honesty in writing this. What a painful story! Your strength in pursuing your art and making the world more beautiful are truly admirable. Have you ever read the book “Will I Ever Be Good Enough?” I think it could be very healing for you. By the way the dishes are lovely and so meaningful! So amazing how God works in our lives. ?
Thank you Josie, I appreciate your kind words. I’ll check out that book
Oh that’s such a lovely story, made me cry :) I think maybe your Mum had a hand in getting that dish to you after all!
I just watched your yellow bouquet painting video yesterday, and my husband has just come home with a bunch of yellow tulips from the grocers. And the sun is shining. It’s a lovely yellow day :)
Elizabeth, There are so many women from our generation that have similar stories. Even though they are all so similar, we all still feel that hurt that our mothers couldn’t express their love like we wanted or needed them to. The reason are varied; they were treated this way by their mothers, they couldn’t overcome their jealousy enough to show their love or similarly they never reached a level of security that let them fully love another person besides themselves. In the end none of that matters when you need your mother’s love or approval. You really look like your mother and are equally as beautiful and I’m sure that was hard for her. She came from a generation where woman put their husbands and children before themselves and even though we all know that wasn’t healthy for them, it was what it was, but created a generation of woman with dysfunctional mothering skills when it came to their daughters. My mother is gone now (she died at 66 from cancer) and even though I think of those bad stinging words that we can never forget I also think that she did the best she could for who she was. I would also like to think that if she were here today, we would talk about it and work it out. I bet your mom is waiting in the afterlife to tell you she’s sorry, but until then all you can do is learn from her mistakes and live your most loving and best life! From what I can see you are doing a great job.
~Katie
p.s. My Mom loved yellow too..
The older I get the more I realize I look like her. I’ll take that as a compliment. We all have issues with our parents. Even my children have issues with me LOL. I guess it’s just something we have to learn from.
Thank you for your kind words
What a wonderful example of turning a negative and painful experience into a positive blessing for others. You are such a generous and gifted soul filled with lovingkindness —Keep shining the light!
Thank you for your story. There are many of us that can relate to your story my mother too is very self-centered, she was a beauty queen afterall, the world revolves around her needs even today. I only heard praise for the day I brought home my first sculpture of a realistic puppy that I did in a 3rd grade school art class and later as i started to paint in oils as a preteen. Art is healing, keep up the good work.
Diane,
I’m sorry for late response. I’ve been on vacation with my kids. It is tough to have a beautiful talented mother but rewards as well. I hope you find some peace.
Thank you for sharing yourself with us. Coming from the heart of a mother… I can honestly say, that if your mother knew how much pain she caused you, she would have done things differently. Words hurt. I’m glad that you found a way to come to terms with your painful past. I do not have any good memories of my birth mother…or of my time in foster homes. What I have learned from the pain in my life is that Love Heals. In my early 20’s there were a couple of very special people who came along and lifted me up with their love. I married one of them. I’m so glad that you were able to overcome your pain. I see photos of you with your children and see that you are surrounded with love. It makes my heart smile. I will never look at the color yellow the same way again :-)
Thank you Cheryl. Now I’m dealing with my Dad passing away this week. It’s a cycle with parents. I know my kids have complaints about me but we all try to do our best.
That is so real and so generous of you to share that story…a lot like mine! Thank you Elizabeth…thank you! :) I too was so disappointed that my Mom left nothing for me to remember her by…maybe I’ll find a yellow dish too! :)
It is strange sometimes how little things like that can begin to heal us
Reading your story along with the many comments was so impactful! To say my mom was difficult would be an understatement to say the least. I cried to read your story, like i have cried so many times over my mom as well. I’ve come to realize the “gifts” some of the terrible experiences with my mom were…although it’s taken a long time. I learned how much pain words and inactions can cause, and just how important and valuable the people in our lives are. But most of all (and i’m still learning this…) how to truly forgive. I also longed to hear kind words of praise from my mom and sometimes i wonder if i still seek praise to make up for that void. I know it’s made me work harder, to try harder, and to be persevering and those too are odd gifts. I am so very happy you have people around you who are wise and help you see the gifts too.
Your art, along with the way you share and teach, speaks volumes about you Elizabeth! I am grateful i found you and grateful to be learning through your art and your stories.
Thank you Laura, I’m sorry that you had that experience with your mom. Sending you hugs
Elizabeth, thank you for sharing your story. My mother could have been your mother’s sister. My siblings were much older than me, and they did not experience the same mother as I did. She made similar comments to me as a child and teen, and those words do cut like a knife, and their memories surface at the worst times. When I was a teen, I remember all my friends would borrow their mom’s makeup, costume jewelry and sometimes clothes. I thought that was so cool, but my mom would never let me borrow anything of hers. I could look but never ever touch anything of hers. However, on my wedding day, helping me get dressed for my walk down the aisle, she said “I have your “something borrowed”, and placed her little diamond solitaire necklace on me. I was truly amazed. She passed away several years ago, and my Dad asked me if there was anything of hers that I wanted (she had a lot of nice jewelry collected over the years), and the only thing that really meant anything to me was that one necklace that she allowed me to wear on my wedding day, so my Dad gave it to me. Every time I wear it, I am reminded that was her way of loving me, and I forgave her of the past words. God bless you for sharing.
Aylisa
I’m so sorry you had to go through that but what a wonderful ending. I do believe that they watch over us