WHO IS THIS PERSON?

THROUGH THE YEARS OF CHILDHOOD AND ADULT .

That's me in first picture standing with my parents. I am dressed so pretty, because that day I was the little flower girl in my Aunt Carm's wedding. My dad's youngest sister. My parents are so young in that picture. My mom's so pretty, my dad so handsome with his mustache.

I remember one thing about that day. One of the ushers accidentally slammed the door on my finger, and I screamed in pain. It must of really been severe, for me to remember that all through these years. I was 3 years old at the time.

My mom, bless her heart, saved that little dress, I was surprised, because she was not a saver. After my Mom passed away, my brother was going through her things and found it.
It is now nestled carefully in between tissue paper in my cedar chest. I consider this a treasure, and a good heirloom for my sons and their children. The other heirloom I have is my dad's baby ring, with a small diamond in the middle that he wore as an infant.

That second picture, well, that's a picture of me with my husband, and all 7 of  our beautiful, precious grandchildren. It was taken on August 3rd of this year, as we celebrated our 49th wedding anniversary.

As I look at this picture, I can't help thinking, "Who am I ?" 
In appearances, I see a chunky woman, who for over half of her life had always been thin, always dressed neat, and who's hair and make up had to be perfect. I know that if my parents would see me today, they would not recognize me.

Well, I think to myself, "I still try to dress neat, (key word is try) even with this hernia. I keep my nails neat, my hair in style, and put makeup on when I go out."  I don't know if it would be considered perfect to anyone else, but it is to me.

"What am I made of ?"- "What have I done with my life?"
A lot of living has happened through the years of being that little flower girl to the present time, now as Me Maw .

The path has not always been easy, but I have managed to climb the rocky hills when they appeared. Truth be told, there have been more easy paths then rough hills. Serious health issues were the rocky hills we had to climb, with both Ron and I being survivors of cancer. The financial struggles, even though we both worked. The passing of my parents and Ron's dad. Divorce entered our family with two of our sons. I found out how much men hurt on the inside, without showing it on the outside, and it broke my heart. But, with time all things mend, and there is light showing in the tunnel.

The death of my mother is when I realized that I was a mid-life orphan. I was 52 years of age when my mother died. I prefer to say -passed away-, but who knows what the future generations will think that means when they read this? 

I had no one left. My dad had passed away at the young age of 66, I was only 33 years old then. It was a very hard loss, but there was comfort in knowing that I still had my Mom.
  
I became my own person at the age of 52, the year my mother died,  I became a mid-life orphan. My mom, the dear person I called every day, sometimes more than once a day, was now gone. My brother and I lived to far away to be of comfort to one another, and why tell him how I was hurting, when he was hurting just as bad.

The fact that no one else would love me like my parents, the unconditional love I felt, that only a parent has for their child, was gone.
No longer would I be able to ask questions of my childhood, or to talk of memories of our family Christmas, Thanksgiving's, and Easter. No one to tell me how I had my tonsils out twice, or how I would pronounce our last name Mi-ass-o instead of Mianzo.

 Who else, but my mom would know how my dad loved to put up a small platform under the tree at Christmas? The patience he had in putting icicle's on our live Christmas tree. The way he knelt on the floor, putting small details into making little villages, with miniature houses and people, the tiny street lights that lit up. The Lionel train that would take a  small white pill in the smoke stack of the engine, to make the train smoke. How he would reach behind the tree when the train would come off of the track. And, how my dad would have me kneel next to him to show me how to turn on the transformer to make the train run.

 For years I thought he bought the train for me.  I found out much later, after he had died, that he bought it for my brother who had just been born at that time. Even being an adult, it still hurt me some to find that out, but it made perfect sense. Of course he would buy it for his son, I was a girl, girls played with baby doll's.

 The family life, my parents making pizzelles together, my mom making one of my dad's favorite desserts, Boston Cream Pie. My dad getting up no matter what time, to go fight a fire when the scanner went off. The times I was sent to the bakery to buy my dad Egg Custard Pie. My brother being born and having a large party for his baptism, the relatives all throwing money into the bassinet where my brother laid.

Who else but my mom knew how I hated to iron clothes, especially blue jeans. I told my mom that I would never iron blue jeans if I had boys. Well, I ended up having 4 sons, and yes, ironing blue jeans.

How my dad would never let my mom wash clothes or do dishes because of her bout with rheumatic fever. He did all of that, but she was right beside him, helping in any way she could. He put my mom on a pedestal and no one could come close.

 I have many memorable moments, but I think, like most women, my children's births are the most memorable. I realize as I think back that our lives really started with the birth of our sons.  What joy they gave us, along with a few scary moments.

We had such fun times, they made us laugh, we cheered them on in sports, there were so many different ways we enjoyed them. We were so busy doing things with them, and for them, that one day we both realized that they were now men, and going out on their own. Where did all of that precious time go?  Our house was empty, no longer open 24 hours a day like Giant Eagle, we didn't  hear the drums being played at all hours by our 2nd son. We didn't have to tell them to lower the radio. The phone was quiet, the doors didn't slam any more and - - --  we were lost!

We had become part of  "The Empty Nest Syndrome" and we didn't like it one bit. It took time. A lot of time getting use to. 
For me, one of the most difficult times in my life was realizing I was not needed. For anything!
They had girlfriends who took care of them, and now they have wonderful wives or significant others who take care of them. 
They have families of their own, they are living what use to be our life. We are happy for them, because we remember doing what they are doing now, and what fun times they were.

 And now, I realize that I am standing on the doorstep of 70. It is hard to believe that I am blessed with old age. I have my wonderful husband to share my life with. God willing and the creek don't rise, as my dad always said, we will have many more years together.

What’s important is that I know my limitations and I do the best to  keep them away. It takes real dedication and determination, I know, to do that.

I am trying, I am not a morning person, but I go to the gym 3 times a week.. Every time the day arrives I think, oh I won’t go this morning, I’m too tired. But something inside pushes me and tells me to get up, shower, eat and get moving - rain, snow or shine.

 It makes me happy that I am able to still work at a job that I love, the library and I interact with fun people.
What drives me is that I have been able to bounce back after many serious health problems, including cancer.  But I swear that unless I push myself, I find it easier to just sit and read a book, or continue to write my memoirs.

To be continued . . . . . .  .