Hey Jude, don’t make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better
Hey Jude, don’t be afraid
You were made to go out and get her
The minute you let her under your skin
Then you begin to make it better
And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain
Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders
For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool
Earlier this year I published a blog about my dad. Many people commented that it was one of the best I have put out (not funniest…that distinction goes to Ho Knee). It was very introspective and cast a light, for me anyway, on some of the choices I have made in my life. Why I react the way I do about certain things. I guess it is only fair I give the same chance to my mom on Mother’s Day.
As with my father, I have things I wish I had said to my mother before she left this mortal coil. I wish I could tell her how it felt to see her kowtow to a man that treated her, and her children, like we didn’t matter. I wish I could tell her how it felt when she curled up in a ball for a period of time, and my sister (name redacted) raised us. I wish I could tell her what it felt like to be told my whole life that I am just like my father. The same father that left and married the woman he cheated on my mother (and us) with; the same father that cheated on that woman with another. Younger and younger. I wish I could tell her the empty feeling I get every time I see a butterfly (she loved them so much). When I am asked my “lucky number” and I use 8, which was hers, because I don’t have one of my own. I wish I could tell her that she didn’t need to be sad anymore. That 2 out of 4 “making it” in life was better than most families got. I wish I could tell her that I cry when I see a rainbow because I think she made it for me. And like with my father, I wish I knew how she felt about her son that grew to be a corporate trainer for the largest bank in the US.
Below are just a few of my Mother/Son memories. Please take them with a grain of salt and don’t judge either of us too harshly. These are also the stories as I remember them and if you are reading this and remember it differently, my bad!!
· When I was in middle school my mother went to my father, who had left a few years earlier, and told him he needed to take me and my sister to live with him. Not because we were unruly, although my sister would fall in that category, but because her new husband was dying. She said he had only a year to live and she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. I was sent to live with him and my new stepmother right away. The same one I heard called DRAGON LADY, since she destroyed our family, according to my mother. I slept on their couch for months while my sister stayed at our grandmother’s. I won’t go into the graphic details, suffice it to say it was unpleasant.
· I remember when I was in elementary school, my mom would sometimes bring me lunch from the 7-11. I remember standing outside the cafeteria waiting for her to pull up with my lunch. I remember a few times that my class was done with lunch and I still hadn’t seen my mom. I thought it was the coolest thing in the world that I got to have chips, cookies and soda for lunch, while other kids had to eat the stupid hot food that was all nutritious, and then had to have milk. MILK!!!! Suckers. Hahahahahahaha.
· I remember the time my mom sent me and my sister to visit with my oldest stepsister. I won’t go into the graphic details, suffice it to say it was unpleasant and one of the worst judgment calls in the history of the planet. Something I am still talking about on a couch to this day. Nuff Said.
· I remember the time my mom let my teenaged sister move her boyfriend into our house. He was probably ten years older than my sister and worked as a bag boy at Publix. It is good to be driven and have goals in one’s life, I guess. Not too long after, a friend of his came to live with us as well, and I had to share my room with him. Bunk beds with a grown man. Good Times!!! The boyfriend was later accused of trying to have sex with my mom and both he and his friend were made to leave. Shortly after that, I was moved to the garage so my stepfather’s nephew and his 2 kids could move in my room. The garage was not converted into a bed room. There was no paneling or air conditioning added. There was no carpet or even a bed. I slept on a couch on my side because it was too narrow for me to lay flat on.
· I remember my stepfather telling us all he was a war hero. He was in Vietnam and carried his whole troop out of a firefight one at a time, while his foot was blown off and hanging by a thread. Many years later, I saw the movie Forrest Gump and saw almost the same exact scene played out on the big screen. I am not saying he read the book as 1) I don’t know if the book was out yet and 2) I am not 100% sure he could read at all. I am saying that his stories were the things of childhood dreams. I have never met an adult that lived in more of a fantasy world than this man.
· I remember taking her to the movies a few weeks before she passed away. I don’t remember the name of the movie. I just remember the look in her eyes to be out of the house. She was on oxygen by then and, unlike now; it was not a common sight to see someone with oxygen walking around. We also didn’t have 200 pound toddlers, but who am I to judge. I remember her begging me to buy her a pack of cigarettes. She knew she was dying; we all did. She looked me in the eyes and said she deserved to be happy and Benson & Hedges Menthol Lights were what was going to make her happy. I bought her the smokes and she hid them somewhere to sneak them past the warden…my sister.
· I remember that my mom diagnosed herself with Scleroderma, the disease that eventually took her from us. She read an article in The National Enquirer about it and took it to her doctor. As far back as I can remember my mom was not healthy. She was always saying this or that hurt. I think her doctor thought she was a hypochondriac, but she was dying slowly. It must have been horrible for her to go through all she endured alone, til the end when my sister took over caring for our mom. You are a saint (name redacted). I know sometimes I see her as she was in the end, when I close my eyes, and I was only there on the weekends. I can only imagine what you see when the lights are off and the kids are asleep. You inspire me to be a better person… till you do something stupid and then I laugh at you till my side hurts. LOL. I love you more than words can express ‘Berta (Not her real name). I wish you nothing but the best.
· I remember when I introduced her to ex wife #1. She talked to me for the first time like I was an adult. She told me I was rushing into something that was not love and I would regret it later. She told me that #1 was a nice person but not the person I thought she was. She said that I should continue to live in sin and see that she was right. I remember being so mad at her that day. How dare she decide that now she was going to be a parent to me? She didn’t know anything. She was on her third husband and she was clearly the most unhappiest person on the planet. She had no idea who I was or what I needed to be a man. I WAS a man. I didn’t need her permission, or her blessing, to take a bride. This was not the 1700’s where the family decided things like this. I would show her. I wish I had a DeLorean that I could get up to 88 miles per hour, and a flux capacitor to…ahhh flux to take me “Back To The Future” so I could make the right choice. Stupid Marty McFly. More like stupid Steve Rogers.
· I remember the day she passed away. I was taking my nephew to an exhibit at the local museum that illustrated how superpowers worked (i.e.X-ray vision, bullet proof armor, laser guns, etc). He and I were, and still are, geeks to the Nth degree. I took him to his first Star Trek convention (I am sure he doesn’t remember it because he was so young) and just last week he was on his second trip to Japan to continue to live out his geek dreams. I got the page (this was before cell phones) and it had the phone number and the 911 repeated a few times. I remember him looking at me and asking if it was “Gram”. I told him I was pretty sure it was and pulled over to call. I was told it would be any second and that if I wanted to see her before she passed, I needed to hurry. I hung up and bought a soda and a bag chips and went outside to my truck. He looked at me and knew. We sat and ate the chips and shared the soda. I eventually looked at him and asked if he was ready to go. He dried his eyes and said he was. We got there after she had passed and the rest is history. That was the worst day of my life (so far) and I wouldn’t change a thing about it. I spoke with her before we left and she was so happy I was taking (name redacted) to the museum because she knew how much we both were looking forward to it. I would almost say she would be mad at me for not taking him that day. We went a few weeks later and it was one of the best days of my life. One of the top 10 to be sure.
Being the complete opposite from my father, you said you were sorry for everything, including things you couldn’t have possibly had anything to do with. You were as flawed as they come. You were also as perfect as they come. I think about you often (not enough, but absolutely not just on Mother’s Day), and I wish I could see your smile one more time. I see you when I smile and I see you when I cry. I drive past a tire store and, without even thinking about it, I look for your POS car of the week. I miss your spaghetti sauce and dish water icing cake. I miss forgotten cookies and the Youth Fair. I miss being your son and I miss your arms around me. I will always love you Mrs. Farlow Pitts Cole Psalto.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.