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Related: Culture Forums, Support ForumsShe was a Hero; Not A Saint
In 1943, on (or about?) the seventh day of the seventh month, my mom was born. Or delivered; as she was evaluated as being dead at birth. When she did begin to move and cry, the orderly freaked out and grabbed her by her ankle.
On her first day at school, a boy pulled her bright red braid and got a beating from the five or six year old girl that she was. Still in grade school, she spoke at a school board meeting to argue that the girl that was pregnant should be allowed to stay in school because she was a kind and helpful person and had been such a help to the students and teachers of the grade school classes. My young mother was so nervous as a little girl that the janitor found a jacket or shirt to hide where she had wet herself. They decided to let the pregnant girl study after hours.
She saved people's lives and helped many others. From making free lunches for the mostly people of color hired as handymen, cleaners, maids, and other low paid workers; to making one of the first women's crisis line an active and effective place for survivors of sexual assault.
But she wasn't a saint, and she didn't have a lot of patience. Even in the last eleven years after we moved in together in Tennessee, I still was subject to her frustrations and judgments.
But none of the issues change the fact that I miss her. Since her admission to the hospital for end stage lung cancer, to her death five days later on the twelfth day of the twelfth month, to today: I miss her. I miss the fun we frequently had. I miss the jokes we shared. I miss the compassion for all of life that she had. Her care and concern for people to animals.
I want to tell her story, I want people to know her - warts and all, as they say. But I am also part of her story. So it would be my story too.
I'm in the middle of my first year without her. And last month, my 17 year old miracle dog passed away. I feel so broken and lost. My eyes are frequently puffy from crying ("Are you having allergies?" I'm asked). And smiling is difficult now. ("What's wrong? You look so grumpy anymore!" ) I guess I now have a "resting grief face."
I guess that's all for now. Thanks for reading.
Irish_Dem
(55,955 posts)The older I get the more I realize the importance of our stories, and the stories of others.
Deuxcents
(19,509 posts)beemerphill
(507 posts)Your Mom sounds like the kind of person many of us would like to be. I am happy that you had all the years to be with her and learn from her.
leanforward
(1,080 posts)Youre here now.
I know about people born in 1943.
delisen
(6,417 posts)I feel as though I met her.
red dog 1
(29,136 posts)Thanks for sharing.
AllaN01Bear
(22,968 posts)with both parentel units gone , i feel empty. du , i love u all.
GreenWave
(8,981 posts)And like many others I lost my mom too. She loved JFK and to think she too passed away one Nov. 22nd... Can't type right now...
Bayard
(24,145 posts)Your Mom sounds like a wonderful person, and you have every right to miss her, and your pupster.
As long as you remember them, they live on.
Duppers
(28,242 posts)Karadeniz
(23,358 posts)ret5hd
(21,320 posts)but think what the world would be like without those like your mother.
Stuart G
(38,726 posts)japple
(10,292 posts)I would like to know. Keep on writing, and I'll keep on reading. Esp. as there is a Tennessee connection!
Peace out...
oasis
(51,585 posts)my good thoughts to you tonight hoping the care I have for your situation can be somewhat uplifting.
wnylib
(24,223 posts)Many of us can relate to the grief of losing loved ones. It hurts so much because of the love that makes us feel so rich and happy to have someone so close to us in our lives. Their passing leaves a hole that cannot be filled. The feeling of loss never goes away completely, but in time after the first full year without them, it's possible to think of them with a smile for the good times and to feel grateful for having known them despite the pain of losing them.
Hang in there. A double loss makes the pain greater. But one step at a time will get you through to the time when you speak fondly of both your mother and your dog with a smile and can tell favorite stories about them.