My mother was a wonderful woman. My chosen memories are of feeling loved and cherished. Comforted. Of skinned knees lovingly bandaged (with 5-year old me pissed off because she’d say she was sorry. “You didn’t do it!”)
I don’t remember her ever hitting me, but the threat of “a lickin'” was always in the air.
Her laugh. An occasional whiskey sour. Her laugh, her laugh, her beauty queen smile.
My poor mother was surrounded by addicts. Her father; two husbands; both first born. But she died holding dear to her quiet faith in Jehovah.
Sorry for the blaspheme Mom, and all due respect to the Son of Man, but when I need spiritual guidance, WWMD always works for me.
I miss you.
Mother’s Day May 12, 2019