Today is six years since my mother passed away.
I wasn't sure I should write this, but a lot of people didn't know my mom, and I'm hoping maybe they'd like to read a little bit about her.
There are people who did know my mom, of course. They knew that she was ill for a long time, and that she had to endure many hardships toward the end of her life. It makes me sad that most of my friends only knew Mom when she was sick. They didn't get to spend time with her when she was healthy and happy. They were used to hearing, "My mom's lying down." Or "Mom's at the doctor." And so on. I think my BFF in Vegas got to see her the most when she wasn't that ill, so she might remember some of the good times.
But, I don't want to focus on the bad things. I want to write about the good things. Like how I learned to make my Italian sauce from her. Well, I basically learned how to cook from her, period. But some of her specialities were stuffed peppers, pot roast, lasagna, and baked chicken. I watched her, and learned. Every year we would bake Christmas cookies together. Christmas isn't the same now. This time of year always brings back the reminder that she's not here.
My mom loved putting the tree up. Once we started using an artificial tree her mantra was, "It has to be up the day after Thanksgiving!" The rest of us thought she was crazy, but "everyone else in the neighborhood" had theirs up by then, so by golly ours had to be too. As I got older it was usually just me doing the decorating (with dad putting the lights on), but Mom would put up an ornament or two.
When mom started going to dialysis, I would do my best to surprise her and put the tree up during the day and have it ready by the time she got home. She liked that. I liked doing it for her.
My brother and I joked about being the "Child of the Year" with our Christmas presents for Mom. One year I bought a beautiful card that made mom cry, so it was my year. The next year he outdid me by getting her personalized teddy bears with our names on them...and she cried harder. He definitely won that year.
My mom liked to dance. Whenever there was one of those big Italian family get-togethers, my mom would cut a rug. Or so everyone would tell me. I think it bothered her that none of her kids shared her love of dancing. I don't know about my brothers, but I swear I have two left feet and none of her rhythm.
But I'll tell you what I did get from my mom...her ability to cuss like a drunken sailor. Something to be proud of, eh? My mom would put most truck drivers to shame. I'm trying to be less of a sailor these days, as my niece is at an impressionable age, and I don't want her to pick up on my habits, but it's a funny "gift" to get from a parent. My mom was this petite, proper, Irish/Italian lady but when she was angry...watch out. She would sometimes yell out the classics like "Mother$%@%:, or yell out such dandies as "motherhump." Yeah. Don't ask me where she got that one.
She would also do the classic Italian fist biting (ala Sonny Corleone in the Godfather) when she was pissed, and that was pretty scary.
But I digress...
Sometimes mom would get these ideas in her head and how she needed something right away. Had to have it. Like...a gumball machine. Why? Who the hell knows! But if Mom wanted it, I had to find it for her. I asked around one year and finally found a gumball machine. I bought it for Mom, and I have no idea if she ever ate any of the gumballs, but I bought it and it made her happy. And it's still sitting in dad's living room.
She loved the casino. We joke in my family that we curse the day my aunt and uncle took her to Atlantic City the first time. Because they created a monster. And when we moved to Connecticut and there were two casinos a short drive away? Insanity! My mom was a slick one. We would all go and split up and say, "Now meet me by the escalators in two hours." Because I especially hated the casino, and only went to please her. Now of course you'd go back in two hours and surprise, surprise...no mom by the escalators. We soon learned to "tag-team" her. One would wait by the escalator, one would zigzag through the rows of slot machines to find a tiny redheaded woman. You'd nab her and she'd say all indignant-like, "I was waiting for you by the escalator and YOU weren't there." A-ha! That's when you'd know she was fibbing, because your backup was still patiently waiting by the escalator for her. Dad joked that he wanted to put a little flag on her so we could spot her. And when we tried leaving...she would stop at various slots to "use up her coins." And she'd wind up winning and "using them up" and we would stay an extra hour. But we would just roll our eyes and deal with it. It made her happy. And that was good.
Mom was a mom. She always made me a white cake with white frosting for my birthday, even though everyone else hated it. And still do. I still get one every year. But mom never complained. She made it for me, and even put pretty colored sprinkles on it one year. She was the mom that always welcomed my friends over, would invite them to eat dinner with us, and get to know them.
I'm sad she didn't get to know the newest members of our family. Sad she never got to be a grandmother. I think she really would love my husband. I think they would have been pals. I regret that I finally met a good man who treats me well, and she's not here to see it.
I could go on and on about Mom.
I hope you enjoyed reading about her. We all miss her. She was the best.
I wasn't sure I should write this, but a lot of people didn't know my mom, and I'm hoping maybe they'd like to read a little bit about her.
There are people who did know my mom, of course. They knew that she was ill for a long time, and that she had to endure many hardships toward the end of her life. It makes me sad that most of my friends only knew Mom when she was sick. They didn't get to spend time with her when she was healthy and happy. They were used to hearing, "My mom's lying down." Or "Mom's at the doctor." And so on. I think my BFF in Vegas got to see her the most when she wasn't that ill, so she might remember some of the good times.
But, I don't want to focus on the bad things. I want to write about the good things. Like how I learned to make my Italian sauce from her. Well, I basically learned how to cook from her, period. But some of her specialities were stuffed peppers, pot roast, lasagna, and baked chicken. I watched her, and learned. Every year we would bake Christmas cookies together. Christmas isn't the same now. This time of year always brings back the reminder that she's not here.
My mom loved putting the tree up. Once we started using an artificial tree her mantra was, "It has to be up the day after Thanksgiving!" The rest of us thought she was crazy, but "everyone else in the neighborhood" had theirs up by then, so by golly ours had to be too. As I got older it was usually just me doing the decorating (with dad putting the lights on), but Mom would put up an ornament or two.
When mom started going to dialysis, I would do my best to surprise her and put the tree up during the day and have it ready by the time she got home. She liked that. I liked doing it for her.
My brother and I joked about being the "Child of the Year" with our Christmas presents for Mom. One year I bought a beautiful card that made mom cry, so it was my year. The next year he outdid me by getting her personalized teddy bears with our names on them...and she cried harder. He definitely won that year.
My mom liked to dance. Whenever there was one of those big Italian family get-togethers, my mom would cut a rug. Or so everyone would tell me. I think it bothered her that none of her kids shared her love of dancing. I don't know about my brothers, but I swear I have two left feet and none of her rhythm.
But I'll tell you what I did get from my mom...her ability to cuss like a drunken sailor. Something to be proud of, eh? My mom would put most truck drivers to shame. I'm trying to be less of a sailor these days, as my niece is at an impressionable age, and I don't want her to pick up on my habits, but it's a funny "gift" to get from a parent. My mom was this petite, proper, Irish/Italian lady but when she was angry...watch out. She would sometimes yell out the classics like "Mother$%@%:, or yell out such dandies as "motherhump." Yeah. Don't ask me where she got that one.
She would also do the classic Italian fist biting (ala Sonny Corleone in the Godfather) when she was pissed, and that was pretty scary.
But I digress...
Sometimes mom would get these ideas in her head and how she needed something right away. Had to have it. Like...a gumball machine. Why? Who the hell knows! But if Mom wanted it, I had to find it for her. I asked around one year and finally found a gumball machine. I bought it for Mom, and I have no idea if she ever ate any of the gumballs, but I bought it and it made her happy. And it's still sitting in dad's living room.
She loved the casino. We joke in my family that we curse the day my aunt and uncle took her to Atlantic City the first time. Because they created a monster. And when we moved to Connecticut and there were two casinos a short drive away? Insanity! My mom was a slick one. We would all go and split up and say, "Now meet me by the escalators in two hours." Because I especially hated the casino, and only went to please her. Now of course you'd go back in two hours and surprise, surprise...no mom by the escalators. We soon learned to "tag-team" her. One would wait by the escalator, one would zigzag through the rows of slot machines to find a tiny redheaded woman. You'd nab her and she'd say all indignant-like, "I was waiting for you by the escalator and YOU weren't there." A-ha! That's when you'd know she was fibbing, because your backup was still patiently waiting by the escalator for her. Dad joked that he wanted to put a little flag on her so we could spot her. And when we tried leaving...she would stop at various slots to "use up her coins." And she'd wind up winning and "using them up" and we would stay an extra hour. But we would just roll our eyes and deal with it. It made her happy. And that was good.
Mom was a mom. She always made me a white cake with white frosting for my birthday, even though everyone else hated it. And still do. I still get one every year. But mom never complained. She made it for me, and even put pretty colored sprinkles on it one year. She was the mom that always welcomed my friends over, would invite them to eat dinner with us, and get to know them.
I'm sad she didn't get to know the newest members of our family. Sad she never got to be a grandmother. I think she really would love my husband. I think they would have been pals. I regret that I finally met a good man who treats me well, and she's not here to see it.
I could go on and on about Mom.
I hope you enjoyed reading about her. We all miss her. She was the best.
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