I thought she wasn't the strong one, my mother.
All along. The strong one was my dad.
The Marine, second-oldest of ten, older brother, who had to be strong when his dad was away, went to work young to help support the family, did tough work, raised six kids, saw heartache, knew struggle.
Tough tough tough.
Rough in a good way, roughneck, rough and tumble in the oil fields, tough at home. In a good way. Tough in the face of cancer, too young.
My dad.
Mom felt fragile, delicate, a different breed, different fabric, different constitution.
Not the strong one.
My mother, Karen M. Lawrence, with the four oldest of her six children, 1964, Arizona or California. From left to right, Linda, Paul, Diane and Kathy (holding Diane).
He died when she was 44, left her widowed with six children to raise, all still home but me, still dependent on her, not an easy prospect for anyone, let alone someone who didn't own a home, hadn't worked since her marriage to any real extent outside the home, needed to support her children, get them raised, take care of herself.
It was a struggle to rival Sisyphus.
Thirty years she's done it, gone, pushed that rock up a hill, longer than she had him, gone just short of their 25th wedding anniversary, worked and worried, wondered.
Survived.
Survived things beyond imagining.
*******
We walked a little recently, she and I, to a doorway and back, a dark place, then a place of light, where I saw everything for the first time.
All along, I was wrong.
She's the strong one.
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Ted Frier
Cleverley
J. P. Major
ohsillyme
Lauren B. Davis
Rochelle Skaar
Salon.com
Comments
Happy Birthday to your Mom.
keyboard gremlins! *sigh*
Rated.
Lovely gift, Kathy!
Rated!
Happy birthday to your Mom; and good health.
R