In Memory of Mom

I was one of four children, the last born and the only boy. Two of my sister’s Alice and Peggy took care of me a lot in those early days because mother was very sick. I am sorry that those memories are not there; the first memory I have of mother was her standing in the kitchen by the sink looking out the window at our house on Lexington Street. I can still remember the conversation we were having after these seventy years for I had to be three since we moved in December after I turned four in November. I can remember that on that day she was sad because she didn’t think she was as pretty as other people. It may be from her that I received my own inferiority complex. She was crying and because she was crying, I was crying.

I remember many of the stories she told me as a boy, her love for cooking, her always worrying about dad, her children, and grandchildren.  I remember her turned hands as arteries took its revenge. I remember her listing to the radio and the favorite programs she listened to daily and how later she turned to TV and the daily happenings of “As the World Turns.” I remember her humor, her fears, her superstition, how she always talked about never learning to drive, the hundreds of saying she had like, ‘company and fish are alike – they both smell bad after three days. I can remember that she made me promise that we would not bury her in Dyersburg, for some reason she never enjoyed Dyersburg. I remember her going to work during the war but broke her arm and never returned to the working world. I can still hear her telling me that she dreamed I drowned – this was the day before I was to take my swimming test in the Navy. I can still smell the table laden with food for those special events in our home, the living room filled with gifts as we all gathered to open them on Christmas eve, the pile of paper that was left and her being worried about the gifts and if they had been good enough.

I remember how she loved me and each one of us with all of her heart, weeping when trouble came to us, feeding us too much pie and then telling us how much weight we were gaining.

I remember when I was ten kneeling beside her bed and asking God not to let her die, I remember 29 years later holding her in my arms as she left our home on Lindsey Street for her new home in glory.

Thanks Mom, for these simple moments and millions of others, you are still remembered, still loved, and still the prettiest girl in my boyhood life.


Mother died on Thursday May 5, 1977 at 246 South Lindsey Street, Jackson, TN

Published in: on May 13, 2013 at 12:05 am  Comments (1)  

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  1. I’m not that much of a online reader to be honest but your sites really nice, keep it up!
    I’ll go ahead and bookmark your website to come back in the future. Many thanks

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