But, I had so much yesterday I wanted to say and I simply ran out of time. I wanted to give you...you know...like Paul Harvey (God rest his soul) used to say...the rest of the story.
You see I wrote yesterday about how much I resemble my dad now that I am actually getting older. And everything I said was true. But it is really only half of the story. I am also a lot like my mother as well. Now in the past I was so mad at my dad for never seemingly taking an interest in me (I was the seventh child), that I used to say all of my bad qualities I got from him, and all of my good ones I got from my mom (wow long sentence). Well I have since matured a bit and I know that is not entirely true. My dad actually had some very good qualities that I greatly admire...and even possess at times. And truth be told, my mom had a few bad qualities that I seem to have at times too.
But my mom. Wow. What a woman. If my dad was the drill sergeant in me, my mom was the poet in me. My dad was the rigid un-compassionate unsympathetic jerk I can be. My mom was the sunlight laughter run through the daisies in me. My dad was Hank and Johnny and Merle and Buck and Porter and Patsy. My mom was Mozart and Ludwig and John Paul George Ringo and Miles and Woody and Rogers Hammerstein and Opera. My Dad was play by the rules and don't make any missteps in me. Mom was don't color inside the lines and wilderness without trails and no limits in me.
She was a beautiful woman. And even though the hard years and seven kids took a toll on her physically, she had a brightness and radiant beauty that shone out of the darkness all around her. She was what I was looking for when I found Tracey...I knew what I wanted...someone who reminded me of her beauty.
I miss my mom...a lot. I wish she could have seen the light she brought to me. I wish I could sit with her and know I matter and am important to this world and I make a difference. I wish she could know how I treasure the parts of her I find in me. They're the parts that seem to come out mostly when I am playing with my grand kids on the floor or building them zip lines. Or the parts that freak out over a sunrise or a sunset. There the parts that light up when that airplane lands in a foreign country and there are new horizons to discover. Or when some fat opera singer hits a really high note...man that just sends shivers up my spine.
I miss my mom...God rest her soul...I only really see her once in a while now...I need to see her more...
Where the heck are those grand kids?
2 comments:
They are available at any time! You simply ask, and they will be delivered to your doorstep, because we aim to please. We're just that nice. And tired. :)
I'll never forget playing baseball in the street when your dad would come home from work in that old pickup that I think he painted with a broom or something. He was an o.k. guy.... but, why did he aim that truck at us??? :)
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