Me and my Mom, circa 2004 or 2005, the year before she passed. Me in my awkward 30s phase.
My Mom was a single parent of two rambunctious boys, performing the role of both Mom and Dad. She did the best she could, afterall, we didn’t come with instruction manuals. She took herself off welfare, got some training in bookkeeping and got a full-time job. She always said she didn’t want her kids to think money came from a mailbox.
We saw her get up each morning, get dressed and head to her job, that she held for 18+ years before she was paralyzed in an automobile accident at 50 and died at age 62 in a nursing home that robbed her blind. Her older sister relieved her of all her worldly possessions years earlier.
She was the first woman in her county to dare to buy a house without a man involved. She was turned down three times before one of the ‘town fathers’ ordered the low-income housing board to approve her application. She did, afterall, work at the court house, had no outstanding bills and was a mother of two. Who else could they trust to pay her mortgage? So she got her house, that she was quite proud of. Plus she did it herself, with no help from her parents. Then the floodgates opened in our little county and scores of single women got their homes. Without a man. I wonder if they knew she was a women’s rights pioneer?
I wonder if Mom knew all the lives she touched? The many people she mothered (and fathered), gave advice to, listened to, scolded and gave unconditional love.
Isn’t that what a Father does?