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That's My Mama

   Mother’s Day. Wow. If that doesn’t fuck up some women, I don’t know what will.

   My own mother, she was a goddamn stark-raving, strong-woman cursing kind of saint. She didn’t play. You ask anybody, they’re all still scared of Doris and she’s been dead for almost eight years.

    She always looked good. She had great legs and she damn well knew it. She was all of 115 pounds and maybe 5 foot 2 on a very good day. Then there was my dad of course. They must’ve met when she was like 15. Love at first gonad or something. They met, they married, they procreated. They fought. They loved. They taught us stuff and then they fought again. Their engagement photos stare down at me as I type now.

   Honestly, if you asked any of my cousins, they’d all be a little bit afraid of both of them. Imagine what their children feel. A bit of awe and a bit of fear that maybe they’ll come down from whatever world Jesus allowed them to enter and still kick all of our asses.

   Imagine how life is when both of your parents could take on Chuck Norris, or nowadays the Rock, from the great beyond and you’re still asking questions. Life can be a little bit scary and probably not what most people would call normal.

   But we weren’t most people.

   I look at my siblings now and they are stronger people than just about anyone I know. How? Because we were taught that you just keep moving forward. No matter what your life is like. You just keep going.

   Neither of my parents were educated.  Both were barely high school students, much less graduates, and yet they knew more than anyone else I know now. They were what we’d call today “street smart.” Hell yes they were. They had no choice.

    The best gift they gave us all was their example. They managed somehow to have the four of us kids and to show us how it’s done. How you raise a child with a bike and some aluminum foil. How you dance with your wife and spin her so hard she sprains a wrist. How you correct a situation by raising your voice. How you let someone know without words that you love them.


   I’m going to be 54 in September. I miss my mother every day. Don’t even get me started on my dad. And I mean every day.  No one will tell you this. You will be beyond middle age, or before middle age or after middle age, and your mom and probably your dad will die. And you will spend the rest of your life talking to them when they’re gone.. That’s just the way it is. God love ya.

Comments

Deb said…
The second after I read this post I called my mom. Thanks for that. :)
May 23, 2015 at 1:02 PM
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