If you’re from Botswana and say someone is “late” it means they are dead. So the title “Late Life”,etc. is really an oxymoron in Botswana because dead and life are opposites. Well I’m not dead yet, I’m not even in the anteroom! We recently celebrated Mother’s Day, though and this was my second Mother’s Day without my late mom. Mom died in 2009 at 81 .
My mom was absolutely sold on her kids. She believed in us all, including the failures and would do anything she could to help us. She defended us and always portrayed us in the most positive light. The family secrets were in the vault. She kept from us any event that she thought was shameful or that she felt would harm our self-esteem, or hers for that matter. We were never told the events behind her father’s death. He was shot by a policeman while committing a crime. Since she was a teenager at that point it’s hard to imagine the impact this must have had on her life. She married young and unsuccessfully. Her first marriage ended in divorce. Her second marriage to my father was rocky pretty soon too. Her third marriage to my father also –a few days before my birth was rocky but lasted until I got out of high school and married. I know the toll this divorce took on her because I was old enough to understand the dynamics and emotions. I was never privy to the details though. My mom could and did keep many secrets.
My parents had a financially stable life because my father had skills in electronics that were in high demand by the military. We travelled not dissimilar to folks in the military with assignments near military bases where my dad would instruct servicemen in the radio equipment his company manufactured. I was an only child for six years and I have to believe that was because mom wanted to be sure the marriage was going to last. Finally they added my sister and when I was nine a brother. When I was fourteen their last child, another son, was born. So four kids spread out over fourteen years. Then just four years later they divorced.
I can’t go into all the details because , after all, I am my mother’s daughter. I really believe the divorce was my due to my dad’s mid-life crisis. I wish I had known him better in those last years but he headed out west and I wasn’t in touch with him much. He died with cancer at an early age.
Mama started another family with a man ten years younger and they were happy until his health declined and he died. That’s how I ended up with a sister 23 years younger than I am. The years Mom was married to Tony were happy years for the most part. There were still some secrets lurking about. After Tony died she was beset by a number of serious health issues but she battled back from all of them to a baseline existence in a little mobile home in Alabama where she and Tony had ended up after he had lost both legs to diabetes. At every stage she was fully engaged and making the best of her situation. Downsizing to more manageable circumstances.
Mama eventually moved in with my younger sister in Gadsden. When my sister died unexpectedly Mama went into a nursing facility and was there for two years. She came to live with me the last six weeks of her life. My only regret was that it wasn’t for longer.
When I encounter problems with my children I often think of my mom and how she would have handled the situation. What I’m always impressed by is her generosity and her acceptance. I realize it’s because she had such a difficult young life and remembered how hard it was just to get by.
She gave to us beyond her resources. It’s of note to me that the ones she gave the most to treated her the shabbiest. I wish I could say she loved us all the same but I know it isn’t true!
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