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Mothers and secrets.
May. 11th, 2008 02:25 amToday I am thinking about mothers.
I am thinking about my grandmother Jewel, who mentioned my uncle to me just the other day. It was 59 years ago that she was pregnant with her first child, and then during the pregnancy discovered that she had some medical problems, which resulted in her miscarrying a few weeks later.
My uncle would have been 59 this year. She has never forgotten him.
Ruby Gail still lives in the house she lived in, back in the 1950's. She raised her sons in that house, lost one to Viet Nam, and the other to a sudden illness just a year or two ago. Her friends visit, and invite her to holidays, but she's very aware that she's the last survivor of her family.
I went to the store tonight and there was a huge rack of flowers and candy and cards, and lots of people buying them for their moms.
I get a little sad this time of year, thinking about all the people who've lost their moms and can't call or visit them anymore; and this year, I'm thinking about the moms who don't have anyone left to appreciate them.
A lot of people who've lost a child feel very, very alone, because of course you can't tell by looking whether someone has-- and because we don't feel comfortable telling each other about such things, so we keep it a secret. And this means that there are mothers you'll never notice, ones who did their best, but just don't have anyone left.
If you can hug your mom, hug her for me.
If you can't hug her, call her.
If you can't do either, then thank a mother you know who's doing a fine job.
I am thinking about my grandmother Jewel, who mentioned my uncle to me just the other day. It was 59 years ago that she was pregnant with her first child, and then during the pregnancy discovered that she had some medical problems, which resulted in her miscarrying a few weeks later.
My uncle would have been 59 this year. She has never forgotten him.
Ruby Gail still lives in the house she lived in, back in the 1950's. She raised her sons in that house, lost one to Viet Nam, and the other to a sudden illness just a year or two ago. Her friends visit, and invite her to holidays, but she's very aware that she's the last survivor of her family.
I went to the store tonight and there was a huge rack of flowers and candy and cards, and lots of people buying them for their moms.
I get a little sad this time of year, thinking about all the people who've lost their moms and can't call or visit them anymore; and this year, I'm thinking about the moms who don't have anyone left to appreciate them.
A lot of people who've lost a child feel very, very alone, because of course you can't tell by looking whether someone has-- and because we don't feel comfortable telling each other about such things, so we keep it a secret. And this means that there are mothers you'll never notice, ones who did their best, but just don't have anyone left.
If you can hug your mom, hug her for me.
If you can't hug her, call her.
If you can't do either, then thank a mother you know who's doing a fine job.
