Unforgettable

My Mother came into this world during the Great Depression. Her father died when she was six months old, by the time she was 8 she was an orphan. She was shuffled from family member to family member who let her know regularly in so many ways that they didn't want or need another mouth to feed. When her half-sister who was four years older became 16 they got a room in a boarding house.

She told me stories of making dresses and skirts out of the old fabric flour bags....she remembered tracing her foot on cardboard to cover the holes in the soles of her shoes. She had deep dark red hair, light blue eyes, fair skinned with no freckles and bore no resemblance to any of her dark haired, dark eyed half-brothers and half-sisters. Her siblings reminded her that she was the only one with a different last name. Now, a lot of people experiencing her early years might have gone a different way in life...she certainly had reason to do so. But...that wasn't her. She had such a genuine innocence to her. She never had a drink and never smoked....um which is something her children can't claim. In the late 70s and early 80s we had moments where we clearly took after our Dad.

I was the oops surprise baby...having siblings 10 1/2 and 7 years older. She was absolutely my best friend. She shared with me her love for the old movies. When I was a teenager she introduced me to "Leave Her To Heaven", "The Postman Always Rings Twice", Mildred Pierce", and any and all Bette Davis movies. She made sure I could do the "Cotton-Eyed Joe" and the Texas Two Step...She gave me the childhood she never got to have....dance lessons, cheerleading, horseback riding, but the most important thing she made sure of was that I had tons of attention, support and that I always knew that I was loved and wanted.

The lessons that I learned from her would fill a book. Her early years filled her with compassion and empathy for others. She had a gentle southern drawl. She showed me what faith meant and growing up she listened to my prayers every single night. When she said, "well, bless your heart" it was genuine. In the south it has multiple meanings - it can mean "well, aren't you an idiot" or it can be sincere and with her it was always sincere. It meant she was going to be praying for that person and that she truly felt for them. I am grateful that she showed by example how to help people in need, how to be respectful and to treat others with dignity. She had a fabulous sense of humor and loved to laugh. She always had a smile on her face and never met a stranger. I loved listening to her and her friends conversations dotted with "well, darlin'" and "girrrl". The very things I say...

When she was 67 she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She fought hard and kept her positive attitude through a mastectomy, chemo and radiation. She had a little over a year clear then I noticed a couple of instances with her memory. She had an MRI which revealed brain tumors...I remember one night she and I were sitting by each other on the couch watching a tv show. She leaned over patted my hand, looked me in the eyes and said, "we have changed roles, you are the mother now." I remember just holding her. My Mother taught me everything.