Wasted
Time is gone
Forever wasted on silence
empty words formed inside of the mind and never spoken
Not trying hard enough to bridge the gap
Or to mend the wounds
Fear hurt buried anger
And then it was OVER
DONE
Without a chance to properly say goodbye
Without a last hug or grasping of the hand
I was not there
I did not see
I did not get CLOSURE
Hurt
Lost
Confused
Struggling at times to come to terms with what 41 years meant to her and now to me without her
I have so much I want to tell her
Yet I cannot
DEATH IS FINAL
it really is
I look at her ornaments on my tree
I see her decorations sitting out on her entertainment center and bookshelf
I no longer want to sit in her chair
I long to cry
But the tears will not come
I miss her
I do not know why as my husband likes to point out that we were not close
I want her to see my kids to know my oldest is being a brat but doing well
I would love to go back in time
To make her more of a priority than I did
To forgive sooner To love more
Last year with in laws in and a ball and perceived chaos I pushed her to the back burner. I did get her the picture she asked for, but when it came to her Christmas present I was extremely late. She never saw it. The gift did arrive at her house, but it was too late for her and for me to get the closure I so desperately need. She is GONE
Now I am a lost daughter without a mother who continues to get even more lost because I do not have her there. I guess somewhere along the way the idea of her being gone never truly crossed my mind, not until it was too late.
ONE YEAR
It goes so fast yet so slow
I am sorry Mom for being the not so great daughter who could have tried harder, yet did not
December 16,2018
Dedicated to my Mom Carol Smithson
Sunday, December 16, 2018
Monday, November 19, 2018
The Point of Change
Delighted that finally he would be in my home.
Hopeful that catching up would be a possibility.
Ready to help him achieve any dreams he may want to chase.
On July 16 2018, reality came to my house.
The skies began to cloud over as I knew surely change was coming to our peaceful oblivion.
Two weeks it was not so bad. The tension was sending down roots in order to withstand the onslaught.
And then it began.
Hell was unleashed upon my youngest and myself.
We watched as my oldest turned into a being that we did not know.
Anger and resentment, could that also be hate, oozed from his entire being.
We could do nothing right. There were no smiles for us.
The words were not soothing. They were meant to provoke.
All that I suggested was torn down as a stupid idea. Too complicated. Too much work.
Yelling that yes he is stupid, just like his Dad.
For sure that all hope for him was lost even as I pleaded for him to listen, to try.
Husband and middle child returning did little to subdue the darkness that was beginning to envelop us.
There was no calm unless the oldest was absent.
My heart was crumbling. My husband was trying to be there for my oldest, for me.
We all felt the heaviness, the negative feelings put out by my oldest.
I tried to fix what was long ago broken, but it is true, what has smashed cannot be put back together without flaws.
I thought my love would be enough, but it was not nearly enough.
And then one day we found out that there was a possibility.
We began to work toward that possibility. And a slight glimmer of hope emerged.
As the information came in the reality formed that the oldest would have to return to the South.
Then one day he did migrate South.
The heaviness and the darkness were gone.
It took the rest of us an entire weekend to recover. To come back close to the normal we once had. But the old normal was gone, replaced by this new strangeness. The knowledge that my oldest was determined to break me and I would have to choose if this was going to happen.
To be continued.....
November 19, 2018
Hopeful that catching up would be a possibility.
Ready to help him achieve any dreams he may want to chase.
On July 16 2018, reality came to my house.
The skies began to cloud over as I knew surely change was coming to our peaceful oblivion.
Two weeks it was not so bad. The tension was sending down roots in order to withstand the onslaught.
And then it began.
Hell was unleashed upon my youngest and myself.
We watched as my oldest turned into a being that we did not know.
Anger and resentment, could that also be hate, oozed from his entire being.
We could do nothing right. There were no smiles for us.
The words were not soothing. They were meant to provoke.
All that I suggested was torn down as a stupid idea. Too complicated. Too much work.
Yelling that yes he is stupid, just like his Dad.
For sure that all hope for him was lost even as I pleaded for him to listen, to try.
Husband and middle child returning did little to subdue the darkness that was beginning to envelop us.
There was no calm unless the oldest was absent.
My heart was crumbling. My husband was trying to be there for my oldest, for me.
We all felt the heaviness, the negative feelings put out by my oldest.
I tried to fix what was long ago broken, but it is true, what has smashed cannot be put back together without flaws.
I thought my love would be enough, but it was not nearly enough.
And then one day we found out that there was a possibility.
We began to work toward that possibility. And a slight glimmer of hope emerged.
As the information came in the reality formed that the oldest would have to return to the South.
Then one day he did migrate South.
The heaviness and the darkness were gone.
It took the rest of us an entire weekend to recover. To come back close to the normal we once had. But the old normal was gone, replaced by this new strangeness. The knowledge that my oldest was determined to break me and I would have to choose if this was going to happen.
To be continued.....
November 19, 2018
Wednesday, November 7, 2018
Settling In
Recently I moved.
The weeks leading up to the move were challenging for me. I packed all of my mother's knick knacks along with my Grandmother's carnival glass into a plastic tote. When my Dad came to visit I sent them back with him. I was happy to know that these belongings would safely make the move.
All during the chaos of saying "see ya laters" watching my oldest son prepare to move out of my home, and getting things ready, I wanted to call my mom.
Some days the urge was so strong I had to fight it off. I wanted to drink, but I knew that would solve nothing. I wanted to cry, but really scream at the sky. I made it through most of the year without the urge to call her. Now in the midst of it all I felt her loss.
I retrieved my plastic tote, brought it into my new home and placed it in a safe space.
Once arriving, once my furniture arrived, I felt worse.
Two pieces of my mom's furniture were damaged. Thankfully not beyond repair. But I felt sucker punched. I wanted to scream at the unloading team. I wanted to make them understand that this wasn't just a shelf or entertainment center. This was my mother's. My mother who took such good care of them, and then I get them and they break. Throughout the remainder of the day I felt the tears threating to fall. I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me.
My wonderful husband was able to drill the legs back onto the entertainment center. The shelf has a crack, it won't survive another move, but for now it works.
Once the entire house was set up, I pulled my plastic bin out of it's safe place.
I sat in the floor and unwrapped each piece one by one.
Behind me I could feel my mother. I could feel her looking on, observing, waiting.
I set up her shelf with most of my books.
Then with great care I set up her knick knacks. Each time I look into the entry way and see the shelf, I can feel her approval. I know she would be pleased with at least this one thing.
All the other things that I need to tell her, well, I'm not sure how that will work out. I feel lost. I know the holidays are upon us. I know that she won't be there to call. I will push past the urge to eat my feelings. To sit in her recliner and watch sad Christmas movies while I eat my favorite ice cream a pint at a time.
All will be well in due time
November 7 2018
Tuesday, October 16, 2018
Confessions from an OCD Military Spouse
All Seasoned spouses know that moving is inevitable. The success of that move is only partially up to us. As a Spouse, I have moved several times during my Husband's nearly eight year career. In a nutshell it went like this.
Move number one was from Tennessee to El Paso Texas. We fitted our tiny Saturn to haul the smallest UHaul trailer. This went well and over all I would chalk it up to success. Move number two was merely eight months later back to Tennessee due to an upcoming deployment, new baby, baby with medical needs. This move was a little more adventurous to include my MIL, new baby, and 3 year old. The car was packed to overflowing, this included the cargo attachment and the car bag on the roof. One year later I move back to El Paso. This was another smaller adventure.
For two years I stayed in El Paso until the Husband got orders to go overseas without us. And guess what? We did a fully DITY move back to Tennessee. This move was not a good one in my book. We had a 26ft Budget truck with a trailer to haul our Saturn. This truck and our car were full to overflowing. The minivan had room for the two kids and one passenger upfront. We were stressed to the max and we had the hubby's mom and dad along to help us out. Getting everything loaded was the easy part. I ended up leaving behind one of my favorite plants because my husband didn't feel like there was room. My FIL made room in the floor board of the Saturn for my other plants. We got a late start and the husband and I were already not getting along. By the end of the first evening, it was strictly no talking. The trailer we were pulling had a flat tire and hubby pushed on to the next exit rather than stopping. It took hours and hours to get a technician out to our location to replace the tire. This was also when things started going south for us. We were arguing over the process, over the pros and cons of repairing the flat tire ourselves. We were stuck on the side of the road in a not so great place. We were all tired. The kids wanted to run and play. It was dark. So after a lot of arguing the kids and I went up one exit to find a not so great hotel and then hubby and his mom and dad came later. I barely slept, did not eat or even drink water. The next day slowly improved.
Would I recommend a DITY move to someone else? Yes. It isn't that bad. The key is communication and organization. We at least had organization. I had begun the packing process 2 months prior to our move. The only damages we had was a broken lid to a pan we barely used. Not bad odds. It was not a positive highlight for our marriage. This did lead us into a not so great year of living apart, another move, and another rotation before we got things fully back into the good.
After our year in Tennessee we did a partial DITY from Tennessee to Northern New York. This was not overall a bad move. Our van was full to the point that opening the doors meant stuff could fall out. I moved 9 house plants successfully. I only had two of those original 9 die after arriving in NNY. The drive was not so bad. Arriving was easy as we had a house waiting for us. A quick stop at Walmart to get a few essentials and we were good to go.
This time we are moving from NNY to KY after a two year stay in NNY. I am equal parts sad and excited. I attempted to approach this move with calm. I was reading horror stories of military moves gone wrong. When receiving our household goods two years ago, we had minor damage. Mostly scratches. I began walking through my house trying to decide what I could do to make my move go more smoothly. I began with acquiring as many plastic totes as I could. I pulled my Grandmother's Vintage Glassware out of my cupboards, all my inherited knick knacks from my mom. I packed an entire tote with these items and when my Dad came for a fall visit, I sent the tote home with him. Thankfully he is only a few hours away from our destination. I began to get antsy in August even though I knew the move was not until October. I kept telling myself that the kids needed to be in school before I did anything. It was excruciatingly hard to not pack.
September rolled around and pictures started coming off of the walls. I dedicated a closet and the front entry way to all things picture related or knick knacks. My next step was to pull every tote out of every closet and put them all in one central location away from anything that could possibly be crammed into them. Next I began bagging up all linens and my kids stuffed animals. This way the packers could place them into boxes. All of these bags are upstairs. My husband said that I have now made their job easy. I have cleaned my kitchen out to the bare minimum for the packers to take. I have designated safe areas clearly labeled not to be packed. My husband drained all gas powered machinery and the washer. All my liquids are in designated no pack areas. I made sure all favorite kids toys are in safe no pack areas. We are ready.
Next I will share pictures of how I organized my house. I have zip lock bags labeled for each bed in the house and for my kitchen table.
Move number one was from Tennessee to El Paso Texas. We fitted our tiny Saturn to haul the smallest UHaul trailer. This went well and over all I would chalk it up to success. Move number two was merely eight months later back to Tennessee due to an upcoming deployment, new baby, baby with medical needs. This move was a little more adventurous to include my MIL, new baby, and 3 year old. The car was packed to overflowing, this included the cargo attachment and the car bag on the roof. One year later I move back to El Paso. This was another smaller adventure.
For two years I stayed in El Paso until the Husband got orders to go overseas without us. And guess what? We did a fully DITY move back to Tennessee. This move was not a good one in my book. We had a 26ft Budget truck with a trailer to haul our Saturn. This truck and our car were full to overflowing. The minivan had room for the two kids and one passenger upfront. We were stressed to the max and we had the hubby's mom and dad along to help us out. Getting everything loaded was the easy part. I ended up leaving behind one of my favorite plants because my husband didn't feel like there was room. My FIL made room in the floor board of the Saturn for my other plants. We got a late start and the husband and I were already not getting along. By the end of the first evening, it was strictly no talking. The trailer we were pulling had a flat tire and hubby pushed on to the next exit rather than stopping. It took hours and hours to get a technician out to our location to replace the tire. This was also when things started going south for us. We were arguing over the process, over the pros and cons of repairing the flat tire ourselves. We were stuck on the side of the road in a not so great place. We were all tired. The kids wanted to run and play. It was dark. So after a lot of arguing the kids and I went up one exit to find a not so great hotel and then hubby and his mom and dad came later. I barely slept, did not eat or even drink water. The next day slowly improved.
Would I recommend a DITY move to someone else? Yes. It isn't that bad. The key is communication and organization. We at least had organization. I had begun the packing process 2 months prior to our move. The only damages we had was a broken lid to a pan we barely used. Not bad odds. It was not a positive highlight for our marriage. This did lead us into a not so great year of living apart, another move, and another rotation before we got things fully back into the good.
After our year in Tennessee we did a partial DITY from Tennessee to Northern New York. This was not overall a bad move. Our van was full to the point that opening the doors meant stuff could fall out. I moved 9 house plants successfully. I only had two of those original 9 die after arriving in NNY. The drive was not so bad. Arriving was easy as we had a house waiting for us. A quick stop at Walmart to get a few essentials and we were good to go.
This time we are moving from NNY to KY after a two year stay in NNY. I am equal parts sad and excited. I attempted to approach this move with calm. I was reading horror stories of military moves gone wrong. When receiving our household goods two years ago, we had minor damage. Mostly scratches. I began walking through my house trying to decide what I could do to make my move go more smoothly. I began with acquiring as many plastic totes as I could. I pulled my Grandmother's Vintage Glassware out of my cupboards, all my inherited knick knacks from my mom. I packed an entire tote with these items and when my Dad came for a fall visit, I sent the tote home with him. Thankfully he is only a few hours away from our destination. I began to get antsy in August even though I knew the move was not until October. I kept telling myself that the kids needed to be in school before I did anything. It was excruciatingly hard to not pack.
September rolled around and pictures started coming off of the walls. I dedicated a closet and the front entry way to all things picture related or knick knacks. My next step was to pull every tote out of every closet and put them all in one central location away from anything that could possibly be crammed into them. Next I began bagging up all linens and my kids stuffed animals. This way the packers could place them into boxes. All of these bags are upstairs. My husband said that I have now made their job easy. I have cleaned my kitchen out to the bare minimum for the packers to take. I have designated safe areas clearly labeled not to be packed. My husband drained all gas powered machinery and the washer. All my liquids are in designated no pack areas. I made sure all favorite kids toys are in safe no pack areas. We are ready.
Next I will share pictures of how I organized my house. I have zip lock bags labeled for each bed in the house and for my kitchen table.
 |
| All knick knacks from the house |
 |
| All blankets, towels, and miscellaneous clothes were bagged thisway |
 |
Closet designated for pictures  |
 |
| Kitchen Island designated as a no pack zone |
 |
This was the beginning of my plastic tote area   My advice for all who are moving find the way that works best for you. Find time to relax in between the chaos. Bonnie Manjarrez Oct 16 2018 |
Saturday, October 6, 2018
What Led me to Here
7 years as a phone parent.
Brief visits to bridge the gap.
Circumstances, call it a cruel twist of fate.
Deep inside before the change of custody transpired, I knew it was inevitable. I knew when I looked into his sweet baby face that I was meant to be in the background. My insecurities, lack of true familial support, and self discipline were all a recipe for disaster. I wanted to be the doting mother. I wanted to be the guiding light into adulthood.
I lacked the drive to change. I lacked the drive to focus on him and work.
Loneliness drove me out into the night. Loneliness drove me to search desperately for the love that I wanted desperately. What I felt I needed to be complete.
I had a baby when I was not ready. I had not come to terms with who I was and how I fit into the world. My priorities were misplaced. The divorce a year prior to my pregnancy. That was the first shatter in the picture window of my sanity. I could not turn to my own mother because she was a scorned woman full of a love hate mixture toward my father. I could not turn to my father because he told me not to get married.
I look at my now eighteen year old and think back to my eighteen year old self. I see my ugly brown Plymouth reliant. I see my two best friends. I see our little house in downtown Dickson. I hear my mother stomping around and yelling. I see those annoying little Pomeranians. My sister is there locked in her misery. We are three people sharing a volatile space. Once I step out that door I can pretend to be happy. I have a job at Hardees. I do well at this job. I start my Senior year single. I am on the brink of possibility, but the reality is that at 18 I had no clear path beyond the walk down the hill. I met my future ex-husband in Art History Class. He was a mystery to me. In all honesty my first impression wasn't a good one. I didn't even like his hair. Yet he was attracted to me. He listened as I talked to the bubbly girl that sat between us. He came to my work. After I met his family I thought he was rich.
Honesty is hard to face. But I wanted a way out and at that point in my life I was a manipulator. I was learning to navigate the world of men. I thought through him I could better my situation. I put myself into a relationship that on the surface I believed in, but under it all I didn't really want it. It was a turbulent relationship. All the while my Dad could see through it, he wanted better for me. He thought I still considered the military as a path. I had set that aside when I didn't take the ASVAB because none of my friends were taking it and I wanted to be able to hang out with them. That was my priority. Pre marriage of my current husband, my priority was to fit in at all costs.
The cost was heavy. I hit rock bottom after a nearly two year dating, living together, and brief marriage. My ex-in laws brought me low. Brought me to God. Tore me down and attempted to remain in control even after it was all over.
I made new friends, found a new job. I moved into my own little house. I thought I was putting it back together. Reality: I wanted to fit in. I found new friends, formed new habits, and all of it was to ultimately fit in. Even when I got a good job. I worked in a factory, I had insurance, and financial stability. I was back in my Dad's house. I could have saved money, I could have turned over a new leaf. I was talking to a National Guard Recruiter. I was happy and sort of embracing being alone.
My mom let me come to her apartment to hang out with my then Senior in High School sister. This was one of the few times that we were loosely able to bond. But the new neighbor was fascinating. Like a magnet he drew me in. I knew better, he knew better, but fate stepped in. But really it was a lapse in my judgment and the desire to find someone to be with me. I knew when I walked away that nothing would ever be the same again. It wasn't
Another long hard year. Avery hard year. Full of arguing and crying. Torn between a Mom and Dad who wanted two very separate outcomes. Fighting for the right to name my child what I wanted. Quitting the good job with insurance because the morning sickness was so bad. Zero support. Not one parent stepping in and coaxing me through this with a positive attitude. My emotions were all over the place. I was lost. I was scared.
This sweet baby was born into the madness of single parent hood.
Born to a mother who in the beginning did not want him, but then did.
Born to a mother who did not naturally have the mothering instinct inside of her. He was an extension of her. He was there occupying the space with her. She cried a lot. She screamed a lot. She fought with her Mom, her Dad, her sister. She longed to find a place she fit.
Baby crying, baby crying, baby not sleeping, crying, not sleeping. No money, at the time of baby's birth she was unemployed. Dad didn't want to support her, didn't agree with the baby being there. Give it up is what he told her. Angry that she wasn't married. That she was hesitant to name the father out of sheer embarrassment. But Dad was embarrassed of her and the situation.
So this sweet baby boy grew into an elementary school boy. He was there through all the fights between his Mom and Grandmother. Fights between his Aunt and Mom. In the beginning his Grandfather would only call him grandson. Mom had to work. Mom was stressed. Mom wanted to belong somewhere but more importantly to someone.
The search for love carried her away down many dark trails. It is a wonder she was not raped, or murdered. It is a wonder that she survived to even become a telephone parent.
But God finally sent her someone.
Sent someone to tame that wild heart of hers.
This came in the form of huge change for all of them.
The father did not agree and through a sneaky he received custody and thus this boy's life was forever altered.
I believe in the moment I held this boy as he sobbed against me. A cheeseburger growing cold and attempting to reassure. In this moment, his undeniable love for me died.
The struggle to remain a part of his life became real. His father hates me. His father did his best to make him into a sullen young man. A young man who is not the easiest to get along with. Who does not respect women.
And through it all I had to remain positive. I had to coax my son. I had to let go and let God. I had to pray a lot.
I know my young man son thought that 18 would be magical, but it was not. Him turning 18 brought me to the point of knowing I had truly failed him.
October 6, 2018
8:38 am EST
Brief visits to bridge the gap.
Circumstances, call it a cruel twist of fate.
Deep inside before the change of custody transpired, I knew it was inevitable. I knew when I looked into his sweet baby face that I was meant to be in the background. My insecurities, lack of true familial support, and self discipline were all a recipe for disaster. I wanted to be the doting mother. I wanted to be the guiding light into adulthood.
I lacked the drive to change. I lacked the drive to focus on him and work.
Loneliness drove me out into the night. Loneliness drove me to search desperately for the love that I wanted desperately. What I felt I needed to be complete.
I had a baby when I was not ready. I had not come to terms with who I was and how I fit into the world. My priorities were misplaced. The divorce a year prior to my pregnancy. That was the first shatter in the picture window of my sanity. I could not turn to my own mother because she was a scorned woman full of a love hate mixture toward my father. I could not turn to my father because he told me not to get married.
I look at my now eighteen year old and think back to my eighteen year old self. I see my ugly brown Plymouth reliant. I see my two best friends. I see our little house in downtown Dickson. I hear my mother stomping around and yelling. I see those annoying little Pomeranians. My sister is there locked in her misery. We are three people sharing a volatile space. Once I step out that door I can pretend to be happy. I have a job at Hardees. I do well at this job. I start my Senior year single. I am on the brink of possibility, but the reality is that at 18 I had no clear path beyond the walk down the hill. I met my future ex-husband in Art History Class. He was a mystery to me. In all honesty my first impression wasn't a good one. I didn't even like his hair. Yet he was attracted to me. He listened as I talked to the bubbly girl that sat between us. He came to my work. After I met his family I thought he was rich.
Honesty is hard to face. But I wanted a way out and at that point in my life I was a manipulator. I was learning to navigate the world of men. I thought through him I could better my situation. I put myself into a relationship that on the surface I believed in, but under it all I didn't really want it. It was a turbulent relationship. All the while my Dad could see through it, he wanted better for me. He thought I still considered the military as a path. I had set that aside when I didn't take the ASVAB because none of my friends were taking it and I wanted to be able to hang out with them. That was my priority. Pre marriage of my current husband, my priority was to fit in at all costs.
The cost was heavy. I hit rock bottom after a nearly two year dating, living together, and brief marriage. My ex-in laws brought me low. Brought me to God. Tore me down and attempted to remain in control even after it was all over.
I made new friends, found a new job. I moved into my own little house. I thought I was putting it back together. Reality: I wanted to fit in. I found new friends, formed new habits, and all of it was to ultimately fit in. Even when I got a good job. I worked in a factory, I had insurance, and financial stability. I was back in my Dad's house. I could have saved money, I could have turned over a new leaf. I was talking to a National Guard Recruiter. I was happy and sort of embracing being alone.
My mom let me come to her apartment to hang out with my then Senior in High School sister. This was one of the few times that we were loosely able to bond. But the new neighbor was fascinating. Like a magnet he drew me in. I knew better, he knew better, but fate stepped in. But really it was a lapse in my judgment and the desire to find someone to be with me. I knew when I walked away that nothing would ever be the same again. It wasn't
Another long hard year. Avery hard year. Full of arguing and crying. Torn between a Mom and Dad who wanted two very separate outcomes. Fighting for the right to name my child what I wanted. Quitting the good job with insurance because the morning sickness was so bad. Zero support. Not one parent stepping in and coaxing me through this with a positive attitude. My emotions were all over the place. I was lost. I was scared.
This sweet baby was born into the madness of single parent hood.
Born to a mother who in the beginning did not want him, but then did.
Born to a mother who did not naturally have the mothering instinct inside of her. He was an extension of her. He was there occupying the space with her. She cried a lot. She screamed a lot. She fought with her Mom, her Dad, her sister. She longed to find a place she fit.
Baby crying, baby crying, baby not sleeping, crying, not sleeping. No money, at the time of baby's birth she was unemployed. Dad didn't want to support her, didn't agree with the baby being there. Give it up is what he told her. Angry that she wasn't married. That she was hesitant to name the father out of sheer embarrassment. But Dad was embarrassed of her and the situation.
So this sweet baby boy grew into an elementary school boy. He was there through all the fights between his Mom and Grandmother. Fights between his Aunt and Mom. In the beginning his Grandfather would only call him grandson. Mom had to work. Mom was stressed. Mom wanted to belong somewhere but more importantly to someone.
The search for love carried her away down many dark trails. It is a wonder she was not raped, or murdered. It is a wonder that she survived to even become a telephone parent.
But God finally sent her someone.
Sent someone to tame that wild heart of hers.
This came in the form of huge change for all of them.
The father did not agree and through a sneaky he received custody and thus this boy's life was forever altered.
I believe in the moment I held this boy as he sobbed against me. A cheeseburger growing cold and attempting to reassure. In this moment, his undeniable love for me died.
The struggle to remain a part of his life became real. His father hates me. His father did his best to make him into a sullen young man. A young man who is not the easiest to get along with. Who does not respect women.
And through it all I had to remain positive. I had to coax my son. I had to let go and let God. I had to pray a lot.
I know my young man son thought that 18 would be magical, but it was not. Him turning 18 brought me to the point of knowing I had truly failed him.
October 6, 2018
8:38 am EST
Sunday, January 28, 2018
Just a Few Words
When first asked if I would like to speak at my Mother's Memorial, I declined. I declined several more times during the next few days. I was at a loss of what I could say. What I wanted to say, and how to say it without offending, sounding bitter, and even cold.
Deep in my heart I felt the words stirring. I felt them struggling to the surface. I knew I had to write them out. I had to try and capture what she meant to me all while acknowledging those who made her happy the last few years.
I sat down at my Mother's beautiful marble topped kitchen table. I sat with my back to my oldest son and sister. I tried to block out their chatter over a mobile game on their phones. And somehow, it all fell into place. There on a blue sheet of paper, were my simple words.
The day of the memorial I let the Funeral Director know that I had words in hand. The Chaplain approached me and placed me as the third speaker. I would be the last speaker, I would follow my cousin and her daughter. They spoke beautiful words straight from the heart. Words that added comfort to my heart. To hear how my Mother made them laugh and how they cared for her.
As public speaking goes, I did a little improve, changing the intro and adding in a few words here and there.
I started by thanking all the family and friends in Michigan who reached out to my Mother when she moved there. I thanked them all for making her happy, making her laugh, and taking care of her. It was evident in all that I saw how happy she was. I knew she had finally lived the life she dreamed of.
And then I rolled into my speech.
My love for music was a gift from my mom. For as long as I can remember, she had music playing in the background. Her extensive record collection was the foundation of many great afternoons spent with my sister dancing and singing along to songs that came long before our time. I now know the words to songs from the 50 and 60s all the way up to the present time.
I have an appreciation for Elvis, his music, and his not so great acting. In fact Mother's Day 2005, my sister and I took our Mother to Graceland. We spent the day wandering through museums and gift shops. This was one of my best memories with her.
I haven't always been close to her, but I knew she was there for me in the background. She loved my oldest son unconditionally during the time I struggled to love myself and even him.
We were both full of fire, but we also found a lot of common ground.
Our lives took a turn in 2007 when she moved from Tennessee to Alabama. In a sense that is when I began to know her all while beginning to lose her. I tried to visit her as often as possible. At first it was easy making the drive down there, but then my husband was stationed in West Texas. Over the next several years our relationship evolved to telephone conversations only.
I admit that I didn't try hard enough to find time to visit her. I passed up opportunities to visit her, but I always thought there would be plenty of time. It was my dream to one day be close to her. To have a picture perfect relationship, but in reality that only happened when I was pregnant with my oldest son.
My Mother is a big part of who I am today. I can find her in my inability to neatly pack a suitcase, which was something she excelled at. She is the only person I have ever known that could fold a fitted sheet correctly. She excelled at ironing and using starch with amazing efficiency. She always had a tissue handy and would leave a trail of tissues wherever she went. Her meatloaf is the only meatloaf I have ever loved, and will probably ever eat. The edges were burned to just the right consistency, something I have never mastered. She is the reason I love popcorn. I'll never forget how she would pop up some popcorn almost every night. She is the one who taught me how to expertly hide and secretly eat pringles and chocolate.
I know I wasn't as close to her as I wished to be after she moved from Alabama to Michigan, but she was always in my thoughts.
Dedicated to my Mother Carol L. Smithson February 22 1947-January 17, 2018
also to my aunts, her sisters and all my cousins in Jackson Michigan that loved her and made her happy.
January 28, 2018
Deep in my heart I felt the words stirring. I felt them struggling to the surface. I knew I had to write them out. I had to try and capture what she meant to me all while acknowledging those who made her happy the last few years.
I sat down at my Mother's beautiful marble topped kitchen table. I sat with my back to my oldest son and sister. I tried to block out their chatter over a mobile game on their phones. And somehow, it all fell into place. There on a blue sheet of paper, were my simple words.
The day of the memorial I let the Funeral Director know that I had words in hand. The Chaplain approached me and placed me as the third speaker. I would be the last speaker, I would follow my cousin and her daughter. They spoke beautiful words straight from the heart. Words that added comfort to my heart. To hear how my Mother made them laugh and how they cared for her.
As public speaking goes, I did a little improve, changing the intro and adding in a few words here and there.
I started by thanking all the family and friends in Michigan who reached out to my Mother when she moved there. I thanked them all for making her happy, making her laugh, and taking care of her. It was evident in all that I saw how happy she was. I knew she had finally lived the life she dreamed of.
And then I rolled into my speech.
My love for music was a gift from my mom. For as long as I can remember, she had music playing in the background. Her extensive record collection was the foundation of many great afternoons spent with my sister dancing and singing along to songs that came long before our time. I now know the words to songs from the 50 and 60s all the way up to the present time.
I have an appreciation for Elvis, his music, and his not so great acting. In fact Mother's Day 2005, my sister and I took our Mother to Graceland. We spent the day wandering through museums and gift shops. This was one of my best memories with her.
I haven't always been close to her, but I knew she was there for me in the background. She loved my oldest son unconditionally during the time I struggled to love myself and even him.
We were both full of fire, but we also found a lot of common ground.
Our lives took a turn in 2007 when she moved from Tennessee to Alabama. In a sense that is when I began to know her all while beginning to lose her. I tried to visit her as often as possible. At first it was easy making the drive down there, but then my husband was stationed in West Texas. Over the next several years our relationship evolved to telephone conversations only.
I admit that I didn't try hard enough to find time to visit her. I passed up opportunities to visit her, but I always thought there would be plenty of time. It was my dream to one day be close to her. To have a picture perfect relationship, but in reality that only happened when I was pregnant with my oldest son.
My Mother is a big part of who I am today. I can find her in my inability to neatly pack a suitcase, which was something she excelled at. She is the only person I have ever known that could fold a fitted sheet correctly. She excelled at ironing and using starch with amazing efficiency. She always had a tissue handy and would leave a trail of tissues wherever she went. Her meatloaf is the only meatloaf I have ever loved, and will probably ever eat. The edges were burned to just the right consistency, something I have never mastered. She is the reason I love popcorn. I'll never forget how she would pop up some popcorn almost every night. She is the one who taught me how to expertly hide and secretly eat pringles and chocolate.
I know I wasn't as close to her as I wished to be after she moved from Alabama to Michigan, but she was always in my thoughts.
Dedicated to my Mother Carol L. Smithson February 22 1947-January 17, 2018
also to my aunts, her sisters and all my cousins in Jackson Michigan that loved her and made her happy.
January 28, 2018
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