Mothers Day

Mothers Day

It's funny.  I had many mothers.  The one that I lived the first four years of my life is, for the most part,  is vacant from my memory.  Is it the trauma of her going as she did or is it just I was too young to remember her?  I have heard of children as young as three or less remembering their mom who died.  I have 2 vague pictures.

I was little.  A tall woman was by the kitchen sink at our farm.  She was smiling and it was sunny in the room.  I gripped the wood of the counter and watched as she took her teeth out of her mouth and washed them under the faucet.  Why?  She smiled and it was lovely.  It was encouraging.  Perhaps she didn't want me to be afraid.  I can feel the frown between my eyes, and the thought that went through my head.

I should be able to do that, if she can!

Reaching into my mouth, I tugged at my teeth.  They remained stubbornly stuck, right there, set in stone.  And the lady laughed out loud.  A real smile and just the biggest laugh you can imagine.  And then we were both laughing.  It was wonderful.

The other is a dim one.  She wore a pink dress and her cheeks were too bright.  The place was full of our friends, and people who loved to kiss me, and hug me.  Wandering around I looked at all the faces and sunk into a large chair that swiveled.  I started spinning it and laughing.  Someone, maybe Dad,  told me to stop.  Then, he held me in his arms and we looked down at the lady in peachy pink dress that laid there so quietly.  Would she wake up?  Why can't we all just go home now?  And take her with us?

The next thing was playing tea party with my Aunt Irma back at the farm and everyone was too quiet.  And she was not there.  She never came back.

The lady in the chair is my Mom.  She had multiple sclerosis.  My sister is about the right age and my Mom looks pregnant.  So this is really the only photo of her and I together.  I was told she didn't care to have photos taken and I do wish there was at least one of us side by side. 

Sue said once my Mom and I got along like peaches and cream.  She was so pretty.  I got my Dad's side of the family, although my niece Khristeen looks just like her. 

She was born in 1919.  She was my mother. I don't know if I called her Mom, or Mommy, or Mama, but you know what?  I loved her a lot.  Even now, she's been dead fifty years and I get tears in my eyes.  There is a lot of hurt there.

My father re-married a woman five months later and I spent a great deal of the next 30 years trying hard not to "hurt her feelings".  She did not want me in her house, she wanted a family of her own and not leftovers from someone else.  I got hit a lot, but I had a swift mouth and did tell her several times she wasn't my mother.

PLEASE...if you have a child and it loses a parent don't sweep it under the rug and let it fester with the love of that parent buried until it's too late.  It's hard for my brothers and sisters to speak of her, and when they do it's carefully, so I won't be hurt.  My father only said something when I asked a direct question, like, "When did you marry Mom?"

He sounded confused at first, and I wonder if he actually thought I was talking about my stepmother.  She was not my mother.  Then, carefully, he remembered.  This all was while we were on the phone.  I barely spoke to him, hardly saw him, for a good 30 years.  I had nothing to say and thought he had nothing to say to me.  I had walked out of their home when I was 17.  I did NOT look back.

"We were married in 1941," he said.  "I saw her coming down the street and she looked pretty good." 

That was it. 

So...I have what my grandma told me.  I have the glow in my brothers' eyes when they talk about her, and my sister giving me as much as she can.  You see, we all still hurt.  She was only 43 when she died.  She had an infection and she died.

In the meantime, do I know what it's like to have a mothers love because when I did move out of their house (never a home) I was taken in by a woman and her husband who showed me what having parents was all about.  That loved me for me and wanted me with them,  They shared so much, and made me a whole person, after a fashion.

My sister raised me and taught me to behave. She prayed for me as did my Aunt Irma and each and every day made sure I was in their thoughts.  They gave me God and taught me that we all have a wonderful Mother in heaven who loves us.  I grew to believe in that and knowing my 'real' mother and grandmother will be there waiting someday rests in my heart and starts to satisfy the hurt.

You bless every moment your mom is on this earth.  Love all the women who form the scaffold that is your life and thank them.  Happy Mothers Day.