Your Mother Is Always With You

Your Mother Is Always With You

My Grandson and Me

Your mother is always with you...
She's the whisper of the leaves
as you walk down the street.

She's the smell of bleach in
your freshly laundered socks.

She's the cool hand on your
brow when you're not well.

Your mother lives inside
your laughter. She's crystallized
in every tear drop...

She's the place you came from,
your first home.. She's the map you
follow with every step that you take.

She's your first love and your first heart
break....and nothing on earth can separate you.

Not time, Not space...
Not even death....
will ever separate you
from your mother....

You carry her inside of you....

- Sherry Martin

Longing

A mother's love is unrequited

when the years have gone by

and the nest is empty.


It's not true

that life goes on

without them.


Life, goes with them.

That's why they call it

an empty nest.

~~
Elizabeth Munroz

Dedicated to my mother, and my kids, grand kids and great grand kids.

Bad Blood

Covering the seed of my memories,
she is buried at the bottom of my heart,
where the blood has turned brown like dark rich humus;
the baby girl I gave away.
I have watered the soil with my tears of regret
all these eons, as she has grown.

She is big enough now.
I cannot keep her buried anymore,
my thoughts of her possess me.
she is breaking through,
fresh and new, like a newborn
my memory of her stares at me.
I hold her in my arms, softly cooing.

But the years have passed, 
reality faces me.
a full-grown woman stands before me.
she challenges me,

Why did you give me away?"

"Why didn't you want me?"

"Wasn't I good enough for you?"

"Why did you keep the others born to you?"

She spits out her bitterness.
"I have spent all my life feeling like a bad seed!

There are no tears to quench her now,
only anger jetting forth from her body
hitting me in waves.
She's got a lot of ammunition
I shrink from the power of it.
unable to reach out, hold her, comfort her.
My hopes dashed that we might be friends.

Now, I am buried at the bottom of her rage,
weighted down, held back, unable to explain.
She walks away and leaves me for dead,
buried at the bottom of her heart.

But the time will come when I shall emerge
from the dark rich humus of old blood covering me.
I will bloom into her thoughts,
and she shall seek me out, the mother she didn't want,
and she'll be surprised that I am young no longer
but, old and gray and haggard.

Addle-brained, I shall blankly stare at her,
the discarded mother in the nursing home.
Who are you? I'll say.
I don't know you!
What do you want?
Go away!

We will have spent our lives estranged

To his wife on Mother's Day

A friend who has been following my blog was inspired by Heather's letter to her daughter, Charli and asked me to publish this:

Buttercup,

Friday, I brought you flowers. You were happy and put them in a vase and displayed them on the table. I forgot that you wanted something alive, something that would not die. So, I went to the garden shop and bought two rose bushes. Last night I went out and planted them. One is red and one is white. One represents the passion you have brought to my life. One is the pure love you have given our son. These will never die.

When you were about to give birth to our son, you cursed me up and down for getting you pregnant. I was confused. Hadn't we both planned on this? But, now we can laugh about it. You were in such pain. I couldn't believe how you could get through that. It was then I knew why women have the babies and not the men. You are so strong. I could never handle it. Not just the pain, but the changes your beautiful body went through.

You got up night after night and fed the baby while I selfishly slept. You were so tired in the daytime. Finally, I got the hint, bringing the baby to you. So glad I did. There is nothing more awe inspiring than to watch the mother of your child nursing him. I fell in love with you all over again. I couldn't help myself. Do you remember?

You've guided our son, watched over him, taught him how to be independent when I felt inadequate. I don't know how you managed when I was away. You held down the fort, took care of finances when things were tough. You dealt with insurance and doctors when our son was sick. Things I would be hard put to handle. I can't tell you how much that meant to me to see how competent you were handling all that. I'm sorry I never told you that when you had so much burden and felt insecure.

Now our son has grown into a man. It amazes me how you are with the grandkids, the patience you show them when you are not feeling energetic, and the love and encouragement you give them.

And when you went back to work and became a business woman, you made such progress moving up the ladder of success, I was, and still am so proud of you.

Those times when we disagreed and you became that fierce strong willed woman sometimes overwhelmed me, I admit. I didn't know how to handle it. And when you let me have my way, it's funny, but I cherish it all. I'm so glad we stayed together through those rocky times. It's been well worth growing wiser together through them.

I don't know how to say Happy Mother's Day in a way that has enough words to express how I feel, but I hope this will be okay. I've never been the romantic type you craved. I've always had a hard time putting my feelings into words. I wish I could have been better at it when you needed me to.

Remember when we first fell in love and I said I would shout it from the rooftops? You laughed at my cliche. Of course, I didn't do it. But, maybe this is a way. Here it is, not the rooftop, but publicly online for the world to see. I hope you know the admiration I have for the best mother and grandmother I know.

Love,

Your Macho Man

~~~~~~~~

Photo of baby was taken by the parents. Others, by me.

What's a Mother to do?

What's a mother to do? When her first born babe dies at birth... When her kid swallows bleach... or overdoses on aspirin? When her 9 year old son has an ulcer, her little girl goes down to the river and falls into the water?

In that last case, she takes a branch from the willow tree and whups her wet kid on the back of the legs all the way down the middle of the street... all the way home.

She is not to be blamed. She didn't know any better. It was the way she was raised, and disciplining a child was common practice back 60 years ago. People did not call social services for such an act. It was the way things were. She never thought twice about it. She had been so worried when her little one could not be found. She had been horrified when she discovered a boy bringing the wet child home explaining what happened. As she chased her kid with the willow switch the fear and terror chased her as well. And she sobbed as did her child.

What's a mother to do, when her kids steal apples from the farmer's orchard? Or flowers from the next door neighbor's garden or items from the five and dime store? She makes the child return the stolen goods, admit the crime in shame and apologize. That one really works well because of the humiliation factor. The lesson in honesty needs no willow whip.

What's a mother do do when her teen refuses to help out with family chores, when defiance, rolling of eyes, slamming of doors, swear words muttered intending to hurt are the behaviours she has to deal with? Mother is at her wits end and doesn't know what to do but question herself, question her mothering skills, wonder what when wrong, fear for her children that they will turn out all right.

What's a mother to do when her children inherit the same disease she has? At first she denies the possibility until it is so obvious it can no longer be ignored. She irrationally blames herself for passing this disease on to her children. She carries her guilt like a heavy sack of coal on her back, especially because they suffer pain and social stigma because of it.  How could she have prevented this from happening? Not having any kids? There was no birth control back in those days. Though the children know she is not to blame, she carries that shame the whole of her life, no matter how much they reassure her.

What's a mother to do when her kids get married too young, have babies too young, divorce so quickly? What's a mother to do when she discovers that her hereditary condition is the cause of her grown up child's cancer. She privately cries and prays all the while believing God doesn't hear her. She sits in anguish day after day feeling helpless while her child lies there. Lot's of things were different back then. You didn't tell anyone about the "C" word. People thought it was contagious. You became isolated and alone without the support and love of your community. You most certainly did not question the decisions and behaviors of the doctors and nurses back then.

Oh, this is not one of those lovely overdone tributes to Mother's Day. Is it? What Hallmark card would sell such a message?

What can those children do when they grow up, but look back on their childhoods and understand the value through having children of their own and see just how challenging it is to raise a child. They can only look back in wonder and awe when they realize mother had so many children to take care of. How had she managed? How had she kept the house clean, the laundry done? How did she have energy to cook meals and welcome her husband home? How did she do all that and still work part-time labor intensive jobs over the years?

Please don't get me wrong. There's a whole lot I have left out. The good stuff and the really good stuff and the sublime stuff. But, that's for another day.

She said, "You will always be my children, no matter how old you are. When, I'm 80 and you're in your fifties, you will still be my children. I shall worry about you, pray for you, hope the best for you and love you forever."