My
Parents
[ The Jacksons ]
Memory
Lane
I
am an orphan at 49 years old. I knew my
parents wouldn't live forever but somehow that was a day sometime in
the future. I hadn't seen my father in years before his death
so
it didn't have the same impact my mother's death has had on me.
I
don't have any regrets - we got along pretty well most of the time - I
just miss her. She had her faults (who doesn't) but her heart
was
in the right place more often than not.
Looking back on my childhood, I don't have many memories of my father. My parents separated in 1971. They never did get a divorce. My earliest memories of my father are from Germany. My family was driving to the Heidleburg Castle and while going through a tunnel my father told my brother Jimmy and I to scream much to the annoyance of my mother. It was a lot of fun and to this day when I go through a tunnel I have an urge to scream. I remember sitting on the porch of his childhood home in Rochelle, Virginia spitting watermelon seeds with him. When going in town we'd stop at 7-11 and get me a slurpee (they only had orange, lime and cola in those days). Ihe strongest memory I have of my father is when he hid behind a door when he returned from Viet Nam and sprang out to surprise us! Most of my memories of my father are from pictures.
Like most little girls I thought my father was the most handsomest, strongest, bestest dad in the world. The truth of the matter is my mother played both mother and father for most of my life. When my parents were still together my father was "away at war" or "away at work" and my mother with very limited english skills managed to take care of us.
My mother grew up in Poland. She rarely talked about things that happened before or during the war. She did say she loved to dance when she was younger. She talked about the German work farm occasionally talking about using cow tails to pull her up hills and throwing large bags of potatos into a truck. When she passed away at 82 she still had muscles most young men would envy left over from those days. She spoke highly of her father, who read Polish newspapers to his children so they would remember where they came from.
One of the only stories she told of my father in the early years had to do with her learning English after they had gotten engaged. Mom at the time was working for the wife of Dad's commanding officer as a cook. She spilled something and very proudly shouted "Fuck". When the CO's wife told her she shouldn't talk like that my mother proudly told her "Joe taught me that when he was working on his car... he told me it means I made a mistake."
My earliest memory of my mother is kneeling in the kitchen humming "Que Sera, Sera, What will be will be" while washing the floor. She did that almost every day...washing the kitchen floor, dusting, and vacuuming. Weekly she buffed the wood floors. You could quite literally eat off her floors.
My mother also was a gardener, growing both foods and flowers. She grew things very well and later in life when I became interested in gardening she couldn't understand why I had problems growing anything let alone everything!
My mother's best friend was Bonnie. They spoke everyday and had many little private jokes between them. They were best friends for 30 years and when Bonnie passed away my mother never seemed the same -- she lost her nuttiness. She spoke of Bonnie regularly often commenting that she was supposed to wait for Bonnie in heaven not the other way around. Mom was the one everyone thought would go first. She had heart problems, diabeties, parkinson's as well as many other problems. Bonnie frequently sat by her side in the hospital telling the nurses Mom was her sister in order to get into ICU.
I now understand how Mom felt when Bonnie passed away. The Parkinson's really took it's toll on my mother and she had been bedridden for several months. It was a blessing that she went peacefully in her sleep but I miss her... I really miss her.
Looking back on my childhood, I don't have many memories of my father. My parents separated in 1971. They never did get a divorce. My earliest memories of my father are from Germany. My family was driving to the Heidleburg Castle and while going through a tunnel my father told my brother Jimmy and I to scream much to the annoyance of my mother. It was a lot of fun and to this day when I go through a tunnel I have an urge to scream. I remember sitting on the porch of his childhood home in Rochelle, Virginia spitting watermelon seeds with him. When going in town we'd stop at 7-11 and get me a slurpee (they only had orange, lime and cola in those days). Ihe strongest memory I have of my father is when he hid behind a door when he returned from Viet Nam and sprang out to surprise us! Most of my memories of my father are from pictures.
Like most little girls I thought my father was the most handsomest, strongest, bestest dad in the world. The truth of the matter is my mother played both mother and father for most of my life. When my parents were still together my father was "away at war" or "away at work" and my mother with very limited english skills managed to take care of us.
My mother grew up in Poland. She rarely talked about things that happened before or during the war. She did say she loved to dance when she was younger. She talked about the German work farm occasionally talking about using cow tails to pull her up hills and throwing large bags of potatos into a truck. When she passed away at 82 she still had muscles most young men would envy left over from those days. She spoke highly of her father, who read Polish newspapers to his children so they would remember where they came from.
One of the only stories she told of my father in the early years had to do with her learning English after they had gotten engaged. Mom at the time was working for the wife of Dad's commanding officer as a cook. She spilled something and very proudly shouted "Fuck". When the CO's wife told her she shouldn't talk like that my mother proudly told her "Joe taught me that when he was working on his car... he told me it means I made a mistake."
My earliest memory of my mother is kneeling in the kitchen humming "Que Sera, Sera, What will be will be" while washing the floor. She did that almost every day...washing the kitchen floor, dusting, and vacuuming. Weekly she buffed the wood floors. You could quite literally eat off her floors.
My mother also was a gardener, growing both foods and flowers. She grew things very well and later in life when I became interested in gardening she couldn't understand why I had problems growing anything let alone everything!
My mother's best friend was Bonnie. They spoke everyday and had many little private jokes between them. They were best friends for 30 years and when Bonnie passed away my mother never seemed the same -- she lost her nuttiness. She spoke of Bonnie regularly often commenting that she was supposed to wait for Bonnie in heaven not the other way around. Mom was the one everyone thought would go first. She had heart problems, diabeties, parkinson's as well as many other problems. Bonnie frequently sat by her side in the hospital telling the nurses Mom was her sister in order to get into ICU.
I now understand how Mom felt when Bonnie passed away. The Parkinson's really took it's toll on my mother and she had been bedridden for several months. It was a blessing that she went peacefully in her sleep but I miss her... I really miss her.
