I think back to my earliest recollections about my Mom. They are somewhat fuzzy memories; almost dream like. I remember her playing an organ in our home. I remember her making breakfast in the kitchen. I remember her washing clothes. I remember her freaking out when my sister took a nose dive out of the house and landed on the concrete slab and gave herself a goose egg on the head. I remember when she was there after I almost drowned in a culvert. I don’t remember where that culvert was (Utah, I think), but I remember her being there. I remember being chastised for throwing my dog on the ground and breaking it’s leg (sorry about that Butterball).
Growing up as the son of a pipeliner was, to say the least, an interesting experience. I suspect even more so for my Mom. I’d bet my last penny she had no idea what she had signed up for. You’re here for 3 months, there for 8 months, and then over here for maybe 11 months. I imagine that it was hard to be a wife and a mother under those circumstances.
Mom apparently had enough. I have been telling everyone for years that my parents divorced when I was 8. Not true. Near as I can recall (in retrospect), I was 7. I am sure either, or both, of my parents will correct me when they read this. I don’t remember my exact feelings back then, but I do know how it makes me feel now. Sad.
I guess I was too young to pick up on what was going on in our house back then. Pretty understandable when you think of my age at the time. I don’t remember any fights, I don’t remember Dad leaving, and I don’t remember the divorce. Perhaps that is just my psyche protecting itself, I dunno.
I do, however, remember the pain of having to go back and forth between my Mom (the custodial parent), and my Dad. That sucked. For reference, take your absolutely worse day ever, and multiply that by 10…..every single time.
My Mom was in a weird place back then. She was married to a habitual liar and cheat. He was just generally a waste of skin. He would lie and cheat and steal to get something rather than do what was right. Interestingly enough, the right way to do it was, more often than not, the easier way. He was famous for writing hot checks, running out on debts, and beating his kids around; me and my sister included. Somewhere in this time frame my brother Adam was born. I cannot even begin to tell you how many times we moved to avoid the law. It was a lot. Jack was a sick man.
Mom tolerated that shit for quite a few years. She always has been a tough old bitch. I guess that is what seen her through those times. It did, however, come with a price. Mom managed by using drugs and alcohol to get by (a fact I didn’t know until many years later). Finally, after an interminable amount of time, she kicked his ass to the curb.
Here begins the “everything gets better” part, right? No, unfortunately not. By this time my sister and I had wound up back with Dad. Mom still had custody, but a judge, or sheriff (I forget which), in Texas had encouraged Dad to keep us, which he did.
Mom had come to a city where Dad, my step-mom, Gina and me were living in an attempt to kidnap us. I don’t know any other way to put it….kidnapping. Sue me for not having better words. Her and her ex-husband’s shit had finally caught up to her. She got busted, and got thrown in jail. Gina went to see her in the clink, but I refused. I don’t know if it was pride, or if I was just ashamed. I think about that often. I wish I would have gone to say something to her. I don’t know what it would have been, but I should have gone in there. My bad Mom.
I didn’t see or hear from Mom for years after that. We were doing the pipelining thing and moving all over the country. One year, and I don’t remember what year it was, we were working a job in North Dakota, and Mom had contacted Dad right before Christmas and asked if we could come down to Texas. Dad agreed, and me and my sister were ecstatic.
We went back to Lubbock, and Mom seemed to be in a really good place. She had a good job, a house, and a decent car. Everything looked good from the outside. We had a great visit. We got to see our cousins, and our grandparents, and just generally had a good Christmas. Back on the plane to Dad.
Mom stayed in touch with us, somewhat, over the next couple of years. I know it had to be weird for her. She’s the Mom, and she doesn’t have her kids. My own experience as an adult is similar. I am a Dad, but I don’t have my kids.
1984 rolled around. Dad was working a job in New Mexico. Gina was getting listless. She was missing Mom. She was tired of the moving. She wanted to go home. The term ‘home’ here is ironically humorous. We hadn’t truly had a home since we were children. She talked it over with Dad and my step-mom, and they came to an agreement that she would go back to live with my Mom, who, ostensibly, was stable.
As much as I hate to admit it, when Gina was gone, I missed her. I loved having more space, and I loved not having to share Dad’s attention with her. I missed her, and I missed her horribly.
We were living in Albuquerque, NM, and I was between my freshman and sophomore years of high school, and I had a realization; I was tired of moving around, and I wanted to be in one place throughout my high school years. Telling my Dad that I wanted to go back to Texas was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Knowing what I wanted and telling my Dad what I wanted…well, it was an emotionally painful experience, to say the least.
Off to Lubbock I go. Mom was with husband #3 at this point. Benny was a simple man, and I ain’t gonna bust on him about that. He was also a raging alcoholic. Not being old enough to read between the lines, I had no idea about the train wreck that was coming.
It was about this time that I met my brother Danny. So, Mom had 5 kids, an alcoholic husband, and a job that was trying to kill her. Not literally, but figuratively speaking. On top of all of that, she was wrestling with her own demons. I can’t speak to the exactness of how bad it was (only she can do that), but her own addiction to prescription pain killers and alcohol was out of control. Again, us kids were clueless. We either weren’t paying attention or we were too busy with our own addictions.
One day Mom disappeared. We were dropped off at Nana and Papaw’s house by Benny and not told a damned thing. Nothing. Zip. Nada. Come to think of it, that still pisses me off.
Eventually Mom came back and sort of explained what was going on. She had gone to a treatment center to get off of the drugs and booze. Good for her. I still to this day do not know what the trigger was. I am very grateful for whatever it was, because it is entirely possible she wouldn’t be with us today if it hadn’t occurred.
Things are going to get better now, right? Nope. I don’t know how many months sober Mom had when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. I just knew she was going to die. I know, I was being melodramatic, but for Christ’s sake, I just got her back, and to hear that was like a kick in the sack.
Mom made some pretty major life changes in this time frame. She divorced Benny, was religiously attending AA meetings at the Hub in Lubbock, and had met a new man. Bill was an ok guy. Ex-Marine. Tough bastard with very rigid ideas about how kids should be raised. By this time I was an out of control teenager. I don’t even think my Dad could have reigned me in, so my Mom sure as hell couldn’t have.
About this time is when my Mom and I had a huge fight and she not so politely asked me to get the fuck out of her house. This is when I went to live with Danny. Make no mistake about it, it wasn’t her fault and it wasn’t my fault…..it was OUR fault. She needed my reckless, crazy ass away from her to protect her very fragile sobriety. Took me 20 years to figure that out Mom.
It was a few years before I had any contact with Mom. Being a self righteously indignant teenager prevented me from admitting I had fucked up. I could not find the power to go to her and say I was sorry for being a fuck-up, and for all of the horrible things I had said and done. Pride: a brick wall that will keep you from doing what you know you need to.
We finally did catch up with each other; again it was Christmas. I was living in Ft. Worth, and she was living in Big Springs. My sister (who was once again living with Dad) and I drove down on very icy roads to spend the holiday with Mom, Bill and Adam.
To be real honest, I was nervous about it. Turns out, it wasn’t so bad. Mom looked good, sounded good, and behaved as if all was forgiven. And it was. Not forgotten by either one of us, but forgiven.
Mom and I stayed in very regular touch after that. We started actually talking to each other about the things that had happened in our lives. We had some crying sessions, we had some yelling sessions, but there was always a very strong under current of love. We had both grown up. I discovered I could say anything I wanted to my Mom without fear of reprisal or scorn, and she could do the same. We had finally learned to communicate with each other.
To this day my Mom and I are very tight. She is one of my best friends and there is nothing I can’t tell her. She has pulled me through some pretty tough times in my life. She rights my ship when it veers off course, as everyone’s does from time to time. She is my ears when I need to holler and scream and shout about something that is eating me up. My Mom is one of the most wonderful people on this planet. I think God didn’t take her when she had cancer because there was so much good left for her to do. As she continues to do to this day. Thank you Lord for not taking her away from us.
I love you with all my heart Mom. I just wish we could have got to this place 25 years ago.
BTW, this was previewed and approved by my Mom before posting. I owed her the right of first refusal and editing rights.
Posted by bofh69 
Posted by bofh69 
Posted by bofh69 
