Mom's been gone a while now.
When I was a child, my mother was wonderful to me.
She read to me and later would buy me books to read.
Hard to believe that my older sister (by ten years) had been taken from her because she was deemed an unfit parent.
Mom had been a nightclub singer in the 40's and her husband, my sister's father, and as I learned out much later in life, my uncle, was an alcoholic.
They divorced, but mom kept up the nightlife as it was her livelihood.
My dad would visit his niece and eventually married Mom. He then adopted Joan and they eventually had me. Then my brothers. And Mom was supposed to have been infertile after a few miscarriages.
After the arrival of my brothers, things went south with Mom.I spent Summers and weekends at my sister's apartment and then house.
She became a surrogate mom to me.
I lived the last two years of High School at her house.
So Happy Mother's Day in Heaven, Joan.
My mom and I eventually stopped talking. She was not aware when I joined the Air Force and while I was gone, she divorced my Dad, married another guy and moved to Louisiana.
When I became a full blown Christian, I reached out to her to reconcile.
She had also had a conversion experience and we established a relationship.
I remember her telling me one day, on the phone, that having been an only child, she didn't know what a household with boys in it was supposed to be like.
She knew the "Ozzie and Harriet" family.
And "My Three Sons".
And she had "My Three Sons From Hell" :)
I visited her with my kids in Louisiana once. It was nice. It was actually fun.
Then a year later, she ended up with lung cancer, in the hospital.
I worked afternoons and had a robotic line that I was responsible for.
Only one other guy was capable of keeping it running, and he was a friend and brother in the Lord.
He stopped by and asked how my Mom was doing, and I said I hadn't had a chance to talk to her.
He told me to go to the pay phone and call her, he would cover me.
Normally at break the phones were busy so I was happy to get away to one that was open.
I called her and we chatted a bit.
She was dying.
I told her that I couldn't afford to travel to visit her in the hospital and later for the funeral.
We had been talking for about ten minutes at that point and I could hear her wheeze.
She said not to worry about it, that I'd figure it out, but she was not able to talk more.
I told her I loved her and hung up.
That night, after work, I got the call. She had passed on to be with Jesus.
I had been the last one to talk to her.
I went for the funeral.
She was well liked and respected down there and her husband was a great guy.
He did not honor her wishes to scatter her ashes over the bayou, but instead buried her next to his site. I didn't blame him.
I have good memories of her and the bad one's? Just a funny story to tell.
Happy Mother's Day Mom. Sorry for all the trouble :)