A friend posted that her mother had passed away 10 years ago. It brought so many memories back that I didn’t want to overtake her post, but I thought I would share here - remembering our good times.
I had talked to moma most ever day for at least 30 years - even if it was 1 timed minute a day to say “I love you and I miss you so much.”. I carefully saved money to buy her minutes on an AT&T card so she could call me, too. No, we couldn’t afford those calls, but Steve and I paid bills and ate, and we were never without necessities; but I was without guidance, I was young and naive about life. I had been sheltered to the outside world and knew only the world I had left 750 miles away. There is still several hundred minutes on there, because I always renewed them - I wanted her to be able to call if she needed to.
I was only 19 when Steve took the job in south Louisiana. My whole world was left behind, and my husband was working gawd awful long (12-18?) hours every day. I was lonely, just found out I was pregnant, and I was scared and alone most of the time. Yes, I made friends, very dear friends, who I am still friends with to this day, but I had no history with them. My life was back home. I learned to live without them by my side, but mom helped me learn to live without her by my side. And friends healed my pain.
I have mounds of my letters that I sent to moma that she saved. I have her cut outs from newspapers and magazines, cutouts of what she would buy me if she could afford to. They were more precious than if she had actually bought the items.
She would send cutouts of pictures of flowers she thought I would like, because I have always loved flowers, and critters, and nature - yes she sent pics of them too. She shared articles from the local paper that she thought I would like to read - and it was like getting a piece of home back.
I miss her 12:01am call saying Happy Birthday and her mid-afternoon call saying do you know what I was doing (?) years ago? Having you!
I miss her vacation weather updates telling me what was coming where I was. She was faithful with those updates, watching ‘back then’ tv, carefully, paying attention to where her kids were, and relaying back to me about my vacation weather, and then even the weather my sisters and brother would be in. And she updated me through hurricanes when we had land lines and no cell phones.
Moma loved to sew. She had ‘borrowed’ a new Necchi sewing machine that my grandmother bought when I was born. Grands told her she could only ‘borrow’ it until I was grown, but then it was mine.
We laughed about her sewing on my machine so much she would wear it out. She sewed clothes for me, for her and for my sisters and brother. She never did wear ‘my’ Necchi out - and yes, I have it.
Dad died when he was 59, Moma died when she was 62 - 10 years apart. Both died very young. I miss them every day, but moma? I miss moma so very much. I miss her voice and her laughter. I miss her tweety bird fine fluffy hair we kept trying to fix and I miss her hugs into her sunken chest.
She was adopted, never knew her natural family and one person in her adopted family alienated her from the entire rest of the family. He convinced her that she was never wanted, so she backed away to not invade their space any more. She was told to never come back. It was years after she died that I found out it was one very bitter, hateful man that did that to her. She was so hurt.
We went through pain that together on the phone, and with hugs, and deep bawls. I had also lost my cousins and grandma in that terrible (one man) war. It was a death I never would have wished on anyone. But it happened because one person was just a bitter, hateful ’brother’ to my mom.
Anyway, all of this to say, my moma was loved unconditionally by me. We had out tough times, but there was much more love. I always needed her, I understood her pain, I was with her enough to see where it came from and I like to think I loved and laughed her through it. I know, without a doubt, that she knew I loved her deeply.
My moma, Karen, with my niece, Michèl. Both gone but never forgotten.
If you are still reading this, and if you have your parents, no matter how much you have been divided, treasure them and nurture them. Don’t just call when you need them. Tell them you love them… because you are gonna miss “this” when they are gone.
