This was my second Mother's Day without a mom. I miss her presence and her strength. Sometimes her strong will was difficult and inconvenient to our family. She lived in such a different time. She experienced so much joy and pain. I am still sometimes blown away by the struggles she overcame. This is the story I hope she would like to see me write about her. I believe her story makes me who I am both personally and professionally. My story is wound tightly with hers.

SEEK THRILLS 

I have many pictures of her as a little girl. She was the third born in a family of five. The siblings  in her family were cute, rough and tumble children. Her mother worked to raise children and keep the home. Her father was a laborer who piloted a plane to work at job sites around the state. I cannot remember any pictures of  him near a car. He rode a motorcycle and to me, always seemed larger than life. When I see him in the black and white photo with his left foot resting on the tire of his plane, head cocked to one side, right  arm resting on  his knee I think of him as a character in a book.  I never met my grandfather, but I like to think he gave me some of my thrill seeking characteristics.

ALL PROBLEMS HAVE RESOLUTIONS

My mom married my dad on December 27, 1947. My dad was in the military and served during World War II. He was a drill sergeant and taught soldiers during basic training to use the Howitzer. The story he didn't tell is that he rose through the ranks quickly to become a leader. He spoke very little of this time in his life other than to say he did not like watching those young men deploy.  When we asked him to tell us stories about the war, he joked that he had served on the "Oklahoma front." My mom worked for 6 months after graduation in the local bank. She never worked outside the home after she was married.  Once married, mom and dad began to raise their family and my dad started a local business.  My mom and dad were married until death parted them. Their marriage proved to me that all conflict can be resolved.

FAMILY IS FOREVER

You may think it odd that I included the pictures of my siblings who died too young, but it is these stories  that shaped my mother's adult life. My mom and dad immediately started a family when they married and had four young children by 1957.  I was not yet born. My dad drove a school bus for extra money and our family lived next to the school. My sister Kathy would run to school when dad got back from his route and ride with him as he parked the bus. She was second born, and I imagine her wanting to get away from the younger siblings and have some time alone with dad. On January 23rd 1957, she ran to meet dad's bus but on this day, another driver came in first. She must have thought it was dad. The driver was unaware that she was there, she slipped on the ice, slid under the school bus as it was backing up, and was killed. My dad arrived at the scene moments later. My oldest sister remembers watching my mom ironing clothes and doing dishes as tears rolled down her face in those years that followed.

I never saw mom cry when I was a child. I thought she was invincible; now I believe that that day changed her to such a degree that she was a different mom for me than my older siblings. I think my mom gave me a sense about grief and all of its complexities. Every year until her own death mom would remind us of the anniversary of Kathy's death and Kathy's birthday. She grieved Kathy for 57 years. Family is forever.

LETTING GO IS HARD

I wonder about all the times I thought dad and mom would be mad about something I had done, and how gentle they seemed with me, how careful. I have a clear memory of being at a family reunion and being angry with a cousin. "I hate him!" I confided to my dad whose huge hand completely enveloped my 6 year old hand. He responded quietly with six words, "Hate is a very strong word." I think I was raised with extraordinary patience and perspective from parents who lost a child and then dared to conceive another. I know now, that they must have set some of those rules to protect me from harm in a way only grieving parents completely understand. I can remember that I was the last child in our neighborhood to cross the street alone. I was impatient with these boundaries. Of course.  When I made a mistake they must have realized how much worse things could be. They were forgiving in a way that only that kind of pain can reinforce. They treated me like I was both fragile and the center of their world. I liked to climb trees, run fast, collect worms, and go for long walks without a clear destination. I seemed to always be involved in something they felt was a little risky. They were careful with me. My personality must have scared them. Letting go and trusting is so much more work than anyone prepares us for.

LOVE OVERCOMES IGNORANCE

My brother was four months old when Kathy was killed. He was a strong willed child- smart, funny, and stubborn. I remember my teenage brother, Jim, arguing with dad about the shoes dad bought for him. Jim did not like them. He was furious that he was going to have to wear them. He thought they were ugly. Our family was in the car driving back from a school shopping trip. Suddenly Jim stopped arguing. I disliked conflict, so I was relieved and thought, "Whew, it's over."  We got home, dad asked about the shoes.  Jim stuck his chin out looked my dad in the eye and said triumphantly, "I threw them out the window." The shoes were gone. Jim fought authority his whole life. 

Jim became a registered nurse and was well respected in the health care community. He was also gay. In the 1980's this was unacceptable. He did not tell mom and dad. He did not tell his friends. Of course, he could not tell anyone at work. He did tell his kid sister. He eventually had the courage to come out. My parents struggled with what it meant and if they were to blame. They struggled with stereotypes and prejudices and ignorance. 

My brother contracted AIDS in the early 1990's when it was a death sentence. It was my mom who cared for him when he was sick, went blind, weakened, and died. She did this alone as my dad had died two years before. Mom's first airplane trip was to go to Jim's house to take care of him.  It was my mom who listened to his neighbors curse his existence. It was my mom who overcame her own prejudices and reached out to Jim's friends. She gave motherly advice to my brother's gay friends. She became a part of Jim's community. She encouraged these men to be honest with their family and to call their own moms. She learned that the gay community was not much different from her own small community and her advice to these men was sound. I was proud of the acceptance she learned, and it made my brother happy. She stayed in touch with this extended family until she died. Once you know  people it is difficult to judge them.  My mom's love was so much stronger than ignorance.

ADVOCATE POSSIBILITY

I advocate possibility because I was given the opportunity to grow and learn and love in a life surrounded by struggle. I know these events shaped and molded me- including those that happened before I was born. I know I am my mother's daughter with all of her faults and foibles. I learned strength and patience and respect. I learned nothing is so bad it can't be overcome even if you are scarred by it for 57 years. I learned hate is strong and love is stronger. I learned to take chances, keep secrets, and pilot my own plane. I learned to challenge authority and wear nice shoes. I learned community surrounds and supports us. Mainly, I learned that moms make us who we are.

Happy Mother's Day 2014, mom. Thank you.

Thank you to all the teachers who inspire me both past and present.