Monday, July 1, 2013
I WANT MY MOTHER
No matter how old a person is, at one point of their life they find themselves thinking "I Want My Mother". I firmly believe this, even if that mother was hurtful, or had other problems, a person always wants their mother's love.
My Mother has been gone since 1995. It seems like yesterday though. I can still feel her touch the last time she was at our home for Christmas Eve. She was not going to come because she did not feel good, but at the last minute she ask my brother to bring her. I was so surprised and so happy. Of course there were tears when we saw each other, and she grabbed my arms real tight while hugging me. I can still feel that hug. My husband and boys were excited also, they all loved my mom with a great passion. She had a special relationship with each one of them.
Her very last Christmas she spent in the hospital, it was the first time she had ever been in the hospital on a important holiday, so it was a sad time. We all went, and I even took her a plate filled with Christmas food and a plate full of cookies, we exchanged gifts and I even brought up a little real tree all decorated I bought from the local florist, but it was not the same. When it was time for us to leave, we all cried, even my mom, who never showed when she was sad. She always kept everything inside of her, not wanting her family to know if she was suffering or feeling sad. Every time I hear the song "Smile Though Your Heart is Breaking" I think of my mom, because that was her to the T.
I never met a braver woman then my mom. She suffered so much, but always had a smile on her face.
If I ever called her to complain about Ron, she would interrupt and say "Now, Dolores, you have a good guy, I don't want to hear anything bad about him" and I would say "but. Mom" and she would always stick up for Ron. Sometimes I would get mad because she would not stick up for me, but she knew me well in those young days of mine. She knew I had a quick temper and got mad easily.
Thanks to Ron, I have mended my ways through watching him, the laid back guy that never gets mad unless it is really bad. Then watch out - but that rarely happens.
One of the things my mom shared with my husband was the taste of good Italian bread. She would always bring a loaf with her and say to Ron, "I brought cake!" That's what they called it , because it just tasted too good to be called bread, Italian or not. Her pizzells we fought over, they were so delicious and crisp. She would bring them down in a large gold canister type can with the inside was lined with aluminum and each layer was lined in wax paper. Another of the same type of can would have Apricot Horns layered the same way. The boys would go crazy over them also, but mostly Brian, he loves apricot to this day.
And her homemade sauce - no matter how hard I tried, I could never duplicate, nor can I duplicate the Potato Pancakes made from scratch, nor her meatballs, pork chops, chicken, and eggplant. What I would not do to be able to walk into her kitchen today, to see her there making one of the above or all of them. To see how her face lit up and to see her smile when she saw us.
My mom was not even 74, when she passed. She would of turned 74 that June, but she passed March 25. As far as I'm concerned both of my parents got a raw deal in life. My dad, just turned 66 when he passed and my mom, not even 74. I get angry inside when I think about it, I know it does not do any good, but it makes me feel so bad that I did not have them longer, and my sons didn't have them longer. My two older ones remember more then my two younger ones, especially of my dad. I know some people lose their parents even earlier, and the hurt they must have, but that doesn't stop me from feeling sad. I want my Mom, right now - I want to feel her hug, see her smile and have her comfort me. Don't get me wrong, I am thankful for the time I did have with them, it was just not long enough.
If my mom were here now, she would give me one of her good hugs, I would see her smile and I would hear her laugh again. I know she would comfort me, and be by my side through all of this. I imagine her staying with me, we would have breakfast together and talk. Then maybe watch a sitcom or talk show. She would make me laugh, she had a great sense of humor. Then she would be at the stove making something good. One of the best things she made when we were sick - was a 3 minute egg that she would break and mix with two pieces of toast with salt and pepper. That was the best medicine, I even made it for my sons when they were sick. Another thing that I would not dare do today, is to make Egg Nogs, oh, my, were they ever good. You would fill a blender with milk, a raw egg, vanilla and add sugar. Turn on the blender until the liquid was all frothy and pour into a glass. It was so delicious. I even made it for my son Doug when he had Mono. But today's eggs, I would hesitate to use a raw egg.
There are other good recipes also - like pastina in chicken broth, with beaten egg that you dropped by teaspoon into the broth. So very tasty when sick. My mom was really a terrific cook and baker, I have a lot of her recipes that I have made in the past, nothing tasted like hers, but it was passable. One thing I do think I come close to is making Stuff Cabbage - I think that it is the closest to tasting like my mom's.
A mom's love is unconditional, she will love you to her last breath and beyond, no matter what you do or how hurtful you might of been - there is nothing that can come close to a Mother's Love. When the mother is gone, the family breaks up - I have seen it over and over again. The mom is the one who will do everything in her power to get the family together, who else is going to go the extra mile to make that happen but a Mother. - - - - - - -
If she were here, she would show me how to do the number formula to see what numbers might hit that night. She was a great number player. When we lived on Hemlock alley and ever since I was little girl, I remember walking to the corner store with pennies in my hand and a piece of paper with the numbers my mom wanted to play. The store was called DE Falco's and Mrs. DE Falco and her two daughters ran the store. I can still remember one of the daughters who walked with a noticeable limp from having Polio. Her name was Julie, but I can't remember the other daughters name. At that time the vaccine had not been developed yet. They were such a nice Italian family, and the neighboring women would gather there to discuss what numbers to play. It was like a little coffee klatch only without the coffee. I don't remember how long the little store stayed open, but at some point it closed and the next place to play numbers, if not with a bookie was the" Donut Shop". At that place they had stools and served coffee, donuts and soft drinks, not for free. But that was the place to gather to see what numbers were hot and what was in the workout.
It was a harmless hobby and gave my mom something to dabble in. At one time her best friend bought the place and ran it, but then she sold it off, again I don't know if it still exist or not.
Another hobby my mom had, this one a little more expensive, was playing Poker. She was good! Sometimes when I was visiting there, I would watch them play and just stare in amazement at how my mom knew her cards. That, I believe saved her when my dear dad passed away. Her friends rallied round her and they played penny poker at my mom's. She had people around her and the poker kept her mind occupied. She was only 55.
I often wonder why I can't be more like both of my parents. My dad never complained either, but here I am - I complain and whine to Ron about every little thing. Why do I do that - I try to remember not to but - - - - - - - -I have to learn not to, he has enough on his plate without me whining about every little thing like a little baby - I hate myself when I do that, I hate myself when I look into the mirror, I don't see the me that I was -
I'm bored, no one visits, no one calls, I wish I could still be working at the library, I can't wait till this is all over so I can go back. One thing I miss is friends that care, you know if a friend cares or not. Heck, even my sons don't call - except for my oldest, he has a long drive and calls on his way home.
My one son has company. so I guess he forgot my phone number for a little while, the other son is working long hours so it is hard for him to call, and the other son - stops in because he stays here a couple times a week, but he does not stop and sit to talk with me. As this is the story of my life I am hoping that my grandchildren, and their children will learn from this, how important it is to make a phone call to a parent. Maybe by reading this they will someday do it for their parents. I hope so. Or maybe by one of you reading this it will make you think about calling someone you love.
As the old saying goes, visit me while I'm here, not when I'm gone.
Wow, two blogs in one day - I'm amazing myself! Though this one is to deep and I should not even post it for anyone to read.