A few days ago as a ‘Daily Prompt’ I wrote what could maybe have been information on the ‘dust cover’ of a book, indicating what my book was about. The title of my post was ‘Book Unwritten’ because I have not written nor do I have enough information or details to write such a book. But at one time I thought ‘maybe’?? The book would have been about my mother.
In any case I was looking up some of my thoughts that I had written years ago, and found this, so I thought I’d share it.
“Maybe some day I’ll write a book. But what could I write about….. and then one day as I was thinking and meditating on things, related to my mother’s failing health, I knew what the subject would be. I even had a title in mind….it would be called ‘The Age of Grace’.”
There is a bond normally between most mothers and their children I believe. But based on the respective personalities of the child or mother, the bond varies in intensity even between children within the same family. Maybe it also depends on the place you fit into the family with relation to firstborn, second and so on. In my case I was the last of ten children, born into what basically was a single-parent family. My bond was very strong.
Oh yes, my father had definitely been around, otherwise there wouldn’t have been ten of us! But basically ‘Pop’ as he was known, should never have married or had any children because he wasn’t able to take any responsibility for raising a family. I never met him until I was 11 or 12 years of age. Really, even up until that point it was my understanding that he had died. No one ever told me that, but I guess I just assumed if you didn’t have a ‘daddy’, he must have died. And since there were a lot of movies in the early days of my childhood, related to World War 2, I seemed to have just assumed, he must have died in the war. ‘Maybe’ when I was very young I asked about my ‘daddy’…I don’t remember, and my mother didn’t talk about him, so I guess I just silently concluded he must have died in the war. I never ‘verbalized’ this however to my Mom or anyone. If I had done so she would have told me I feel certain…at least partial truth so that no deep misconceptions formed in my mind…as they did.
Actually, as I’d learn much later in my life ‘Pop’ was an alcoholic and gambler and was not true to my mother either. Because I never knew these facts in my early childhood years, I never developed any deep hurt or even ‘hate’ for him. I was not taught to hate in any case. But I do know that I did miss not having a daddy to spoil me or hold me on his knee and cuddle me …as my friends had.
But of course there was my ‘Mommy’ to love me and hold me and let me know how much SHE loved me. And when I was sick, and that was often because of asthma and croup, there were those many special moments, and even hours that she would hold me on her knees and just let me know by her love, that everything was going to be alright. I just had her strong and loving assurance that she was taking care of me and I felt so safe in her arms.” There was one time vivid in my memory when she held me all night while she sat up in a chair, because I had asthma very bad and could not lie down to sleep.
NOTE: I don’t like to cut this off but I can see this particular writing is too long for one post so I’ll continue it with the next one.