“A giant nearly ten feet tall stepped out from the Philistine line into the open,
Goliath from Gath. …” (1 Samuel 17-4)
She cussed like a sailor.
She smoked like a freight train.
When she set her mind to something, it was done— five minutes ago.
She tore apart several houses and put them back together the way SHE wanted them.
Sadly, sometimes it wasn’t her “house” and she left a trail of men in her wake.
She intimidated the crap out of me and yet, I wanted to please her most of all.
I often felt like I didn’t and I’m sorry I didn’t understand her better.
She was my mother. The toughest thing going and to this day, a good bit of who she was remains a mystery to me. There are not many folks alive who can tell me much more than I know so I’ve gotten used to the fringes and shadows of what few memories I possess.
To be honest, there were many years I was flat out mad at her. Might have said I hated her. Hurt and disappointed by her choices and behaviors— and though it wasn’t her fault alone, I didn’t know how to process what I was experiencing.
In fact, for a while if you wanted to make me so mad I might punch you hard and cry harder, all you had to do was say I was a lot like her. That was enough to draw me out swinging. Not anymore.
So much more is clear to me now that I’m older with a fresh perspective on life and it’s struggles and also… now that she’s gone. I realize now, we were both tragically misunderstood. I loved her more than I feared the pain of her rejection but somehow never found a way to break through.
I miss her. She was strong and amazing. She was a tough cookie with a soft spot for the underdog, the downtrodden and the strays. And….in at least the best ways I can tell— I’m a lot like her.
She wasn’t a very big woman but recently I have begun to realize that the pain that once passed between us has cast a giant shadow over me for most of my adult life. It was a giant I had to slay. One of many actually.
Today I’m finishing this story with the Brave Girl Community…join me there?