HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!

I cannot believe that once again I am writing about mothers.  My daughter, once told me, that she believed that we actually chose our parents.  To be more accurate, there was one parent we wanted to come through from.  I thought long and hard about that because it was such "new wave" thinking for me and decided it possibly could be true. 

My dad was my hero.  My mom was really hard on me.  So, in my mind it was my dad that I chose.  Now,  looking back on my life I realize it was my mom that taught me all the hard lessons I needed to learn in order to play out the hand that was dealt to me.  Growing up my life was good. I did not want for a thing.  I had a brother who died at the age of eighteen from Muscular Dystrophy. I was seven when he died.   My mother taught me to be very independent at an early age because my brother needed most of her attention and care.  When he was no longer around both parents focused all of their attention on me. My mom was distraught.  One night when she was tucking me into bed she looked right into my eyes and asked the question of me "Why did God take the wrong one?" That, I did not know how to handle. But, at seven years old I knew it couldn't be good. I always tried to do the right thing.  Truthfully, I never wanted to see my parents cry the way they did when my brother's body was being lowered into the grave. Nothing I did was ever good enough for my mom.  Grades were not high enough, my hair was never combed the way it should be, my clothes were not right and the list went on and on.  I never fought with her nor did I rebel.  I always respected her right up to her dying day.  At some point, I realized she could never adjust to life without my brother.  Eventually, she became an alcoholic. She died at the age of sixty-nine.

In the blink of an eye my own life was turned upside down when my youngest son, twenty-four, was killed by a drunk driver.  I had four remaining children.  One of whom would have been very easy to put all my anger on.  It never happened.  Because of my own mother I knew WHAT NOT TO DO. I sought professional help immediately and never lashed out at any of my remaining children.  I was really put to the test five years after my son was killed when my second son died of an overdose. You guessed it he was the one I could have made a scapegoat out of but did not. 

Tomorrow is Mother's Day.  Today I will visit my mom's grave and once again tell her "I understand your heart completely and now know the depth of your suffering.  I believe I came through you so I could learn how to handle suffering in a different way.  A more compassionate, accepting, and loving way without the use of alcohol or drugs." I will also visit my sons grave and tell them how grateful I am to have had them in my life even though their time on earth was short.  Mother"s Day will be  spent wallowing in the love of Jody, Shannon, Courtney, and my two adopted sons Dino and Michael.

Let us give thanks to the lessons taught by our mothers.

Till the next time,
Cass