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Sunday is Mother's Day. I had a mother. I was a mother. So I guess I can celebrate. I don't want to.
Instead I want to go to a quiet place and think of happy times when I was a child and Mom and I would bake cookies and go shopping and paint our fingernails. Those are just pretend thoughts. Make believe. Didn't happen.
My Mom loved me. I knew that, although she didn't know how exactly to connect with me. When I was born she had to stay in the hospital for three months trying not to die from the pneumonia and blood clots that attacked her after birthing her first child. I bonded with my Daddy because he brought me home and tried to figure out what to do with this girlchild while providing support for his wife and continue to work to bring home a paycheck. I stirred up quite a bit of trouble just by coming into this world.
My maternal grandmother lived with Mom and Daddy and was there to ease the burden. Plus, my Daddy's youngest sister was 19 and not married so she came and stayed. I guess it was a Southern thing. Family helped family. It took three adults just to care for this little baby!
When Mom came home I was three months old and had no idea who this woman was and why she wanted to be part of my world. She didn't know what to do with me...and was still weak from the illness that kept her away for so long.
We had a rough start, my Mom and I. As the months turned into years things evolved. She sewed dresses and coats and other girl stuff so I would be the best dressed little girl in town. She would let me play with her make up which consisted of pressed powder and a little lipstick. I could brush her hair. I would slather myself in Jergan's Lotion and that smell triggers all sorts of memories even today.
When I was 7 years old she had another baby. This time things went better and she came home with my brother. I really wanted a puppy. She found out what it was like to have a newborn and they formed a bond that lasted until her death. Even her second son didn't have that special tie that bound them together. We have no sibling squabbles or hurt feelings because we are family and we love each other. That is just the way things were. Second Brother and I were like clones of our Daddy. First Brother and Mom were closer. It was OK. We all knew we were loved, just each one in a special way individualized to our self.
After I finished college, married and became a Mom myself was when my own mom and I became closer. We shared something then. We became friends. We did make cookies and went shopping and painted our fingernails. She sewed little dresses for the grand daughter and made sure she was the best dressed little girl in town.
Funny how things turn out. Mom had breast cancer for a couple of years before she admitted something was wrong and only went to the doctor after I pitched a royal hissy fit. (For those of you non-Southerners, that is a really nasty fit!) She would live for only a little more than two years after the diagnosis. I hated the disease that robbed me of the years I looked forward to spending with this lovely lady. I was mad at her for not admitting something was wrong and should have been seen by her doctor many months before. I was angry because she had never had a mammogram because she was such a private person and didn't want to expose herself to such.
She used to call me Scarlett O'Hara because she would tell me to do something and I'd usually respond with something like, "...I'll do that tomorrow". After I read Gone With The Wind I understood why she called me that!
Toward the end of her life I would call just to say "hi" and encourage her to take her medication. In truth, I would call just to hear her voice.
One of the last conversations I had with her was two days before she left her broken earthly body to break free from all pain and suffering. We laughed as we recalled my teen years, the boyfriends, the wedding dress she lovingly made so I would be the prettiest bride in town...
She looked at me as though she was seeing me for the first time instead of the last time. Her eyes looked beyond that woman that sat on the bed and held her hand. She saw that little girl so many years ago with pigtails and rollerskates and not a care in the world. "You know I have loved you forever," she said. "I just didn't always know what to do with you!"
I know, Mom. I truly know. You did love me and I loved you and we had a special bond that only became apparent long years after that Sunday afternoon when I came screaming into the world and started down a path that would last until October 28, 1999.
By the way...I'm glad she gave me brothers instead of puppies. They are special men in my life and we try to keep that DNA spiral of love going strong.
Mz Scarlett...Evelyn's only daughter, her firstborn.
