Monday, May 11, 2020

May 11, 2020

Yesterday was Mother's Day, and today is my beautiful Mom's Birthday. Although she has been celebrating her birthday's in heaven for many years now, I still miss her terribly. I guess it doesn't matter how old we are or how long they've been gone, we never stop missing our Mom's, and wishing we could spend time with them, especially on these special occasions.

My Mom didn't have an easy life. She was one of 11 children. Mom told me stories when I was a kid of how poor they were growing up, but as a child who had never lived on a farm in rural Georgia, it didn't really sink in at the time, just how hard her life was. After marrying my Dad, life wasn't much easier for a long time. Mom worked in a cotton mill for many, many years. I can remember her coming home from standing on her feet all day, drenched in sweat, and so tired she could barely move, and yet she managed to spend time with me and get dinner on the table. 

I was the youngest of 4 kids. My brother David was 12, my brother Jimmy was 14, and my sister Zebbie was 16 when I was born. No one ever said, but I'm thinking perhaps I was an "oops" child! My siblings were born in Lincolnton Georgia, and they had a pretty rough life there for many years. As a child, I had heard that they lived without indoor plumbing, which meant doing their business in an outhouse, and I could not BELIEVE anyone could live that way! But when I learned that they also had dirt floors, picked cotton, and had to work in the garden in the Georgia heat, I thought they were surely joking! I was very thankful that I didn't come along until the family had moved to Atlanta where although we were still considered poor, we at least had indoor plumbing! Funny, but when a dear cousin who also grew up in Atlanta asked me several years back if I was aware as a kid that we were poor, I had to admit that I absolutely did not have an inkling. 

When I was 5 years old, my 17-year-old brother, David, was killed in a car accident. Even as a small child, I could tell my Mom was just overcome with a sense of intense sadness. That sadness never really went away. And then, when I was 12, my Dad died from Leukemia, and although my Mom tried to shield me from her pain, it was very apparent that she was once again lost in despair. Of course, back then, most people didn't talk about the pain of loss, and there were no support groups or therapists to talk to. You just kept it all inside. Thinking back, it makes me so sad to think my Mom kept so much pain and sadness bottled up.

I really didn't mean for this to be a sad post, but it seems to have turned out that way. I have never really talked much about my Dad or my brother, even as an adult, and I'm sure it stems from always being afraid to talk about them when I was younger, for fear of upsetting my Mom. I don't blame her, that's just how many families dealt with death back then.

So thanks for the virtual shoulder. It feels good to get some of this out, even if it is just in a blog post.

I promise that my next post will be a bit more upbeat, and hopefully, even running related!

Take care-Stay safe.


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