As I sit here dealing with the nastiest bout of bronchitis I have ever had there isn’t much to do between coughing fits so I started thinking about my mom. It would have been her 78th birthday today. She passed away from cancer when she was 42.
I start to wonder about her as a person, not as my mother. What was she like as a child? She was the only girl in a brood of boys lol. Did she have to wear her brother’s hand me downs or did she get everything she wanted?
What kind of friends did she have? I bet she had a ton because she was well-loved as an adult. I think of what I did with my friends and wonder if she played the same games… played outside until the streetlights came on or had to be in before that? What were her dreams? What did she want to be when she grew up?
When she was a teenager… what was her first date like? Was she excited? What was it like back then to go out? To live and grow up in the 50’s. Hmmm… What was school like back then? I can’t help but think of Grease and Happy Days. I’m sure every generation thinks previous generations had it better or easier or whatever… lol Idk, I think it would have been fun to grow up in the 50’s. Did my mom think like me and think it would have been fun to grow up a couple of generations back?
Did she like to cook? I would say yes because I always remember having good meals complete with dessert most times. She had tons of recipes and me and both my sisters like to cook. You get that from somewhere lol. Plus she ended up with 4 kids to feed and a husband!
I wonder what she liked to do when she was all alone…. what did she think about, dream about, long for? Did she write like I do? Did she like to garden like I do? I have so many questions for her that will forever go unanswered. Did she love to sit and watch the waves break on the beach at night? The moon in the sky? What was her favorite food? Color? Song? So many questions… so many.
What was it like for her when she met my dad for the first time? Did he impress her or did she maybe not even like him at first? I like to think it was love at first sight. I don’t even know how they met and it’s heartbreaking that I can never ask.
What was the wedding like? What was she like during the preparation for the weeks or months leading up to it? Was she a bridezilla? lmao… yea, don’t think so, she was way to kind and sweet to be a bridezilla. lol
What was it like each time she found out she was pregnant? I know that even though my pregnancy was not problem free it was the best time of my life. She had it x5… although the first one, my older brother did not make it. I wonder how that tainted her next pregnancies? Did she have a nagging worry the same thing would happen again or did she just enjoy it?
After they were married and had 4 young children was she ever afraid? What about when they bought their first house? There are so many questions in between that will forever go unanswered.
What was it like sending me off to school by myself for the first time? What would she think of the changes in the world over the last 35 years?
What did she feel when she got her diagnosis? I bet it struck some kind of hellfire fear in her. What was going through her mind then? Back then when you were told you had cancer you were being told you were going to die. I bet it felt like being smacked with a giant sledgehammer, being hot and cold at the same time and then you go numb. Then the thoughts start flooding in…
What were her thoughts? Did it ever cross her mind that she would not live to see grandchildren or any of her children get married? Hell, she didn’t get to see all her kids graduate high school. She saw 1. Me. I never had the chance to know her. The weekend I was going to move back home to take care of her she died.
Ok… it’s getting harder and harder to think of this now so that means this has to end… a nap may be a good idea while there is a lull in my coughing lol. When I get really sick I notice I also tend to dissociate very easily. Anyway… here is the poem that one of us wrote her before she died…
Carol Dziekan ~*~ My Loving Mother
RIP July 17, 1981
~*~ Mom ~*~
A little butterfly floats in the sky.
Someone uncaring captures her, cages her.
Poor little butterfly all alone,
Except when someone passes by on a flowing breeze.
The little butterfly’s spirit thrives on these visits.
Her spirit cannot be broken.
Poor little butterfly, never harmed a thing.
Why you little butterfly so fragile and caring?
Written by ~JCD 7/1981
Until next time… Blessed Be… Saila