9.3.78
If my mother had lived, my parents would’ve been married 31 years on September the 3rd.
I took out my parent’s wedding album for The Fella not that long ago. My mother was such a bright eyed baby. Long flowing, super straight brown hair, big brown eyes, Floppy hat instead of a veil, huge bell sleeves. She is/was beautiful, she is breathtaking to me in these pictures. Alright, I’m biased, she’s my mommy. Reflected back to me in these pictures is all the hope she had for a future she was entirely unsure of.
My mother as some of you may know was Jewish, my father coming from a pretty hardcore Irish Catholic family. Their union did not bode well with either side. They got married in the church at a ceremony that did not include a mass. My mother’s father did not attend. It left her heartbroken
She did it anyway. She didn’t know me, or my brother, or the joys and struggles that would lie ahead.
She did it anyway. There is an uneasiness in her large, expressive eyes. But she did it anyway.
I think to myself about the time they had together.
My father’s mental and physical illnesses.
My mother’s cancer, her battle, the ultimate loss.
Reflected back at me in these posed shots, from the crumbling album is a Woman who does not yet know me, but wants me. I think that’s why she fought to be with him. I thinks that why she accepted the ultimately flawed, but incredibly big hearted man that is my crazy daddy as her own.
She peers at the camera with a look of a runner starting a race, poised.
“I’m coming, I’ll be there”
And she was.
Everyday I’m thankful for it.
I took out my parent’s wedding album for The Fella not that long ago. My mother was such a bright eyed baby. Long flowing, super straight brown hair, big brown eyes, Floppy hat instead of a veil, huge bell sleeves. She is/was beautiful, she is breathtaking to me in these pictures. Alright, I’m biased, she’s my mommy. Reflected back to me in these pictures is all the hope she had for a future she was entirely unsure of.
My mother as some of you may know was Jewish, my father coming from a pretty hardcore Irish Catholic family. Their union did not bode well with either side. They got married in the church at a ceremony that did not include a mass. My mother’s father did not attend. It left her heartbroken
She did it anyway. She didn’t know me, or my brother, or the joys and struggles that would lie ahead.
She did it anyway. There is an uneasiness in her large, expressive eyes. But she did it anyway.
I think to myself about the time they had together.
My father’s mental and physical illnesses.
My mother’s cancer, her battle, the ultimate loss.
Reflected back at me in these posed shots, from the crumbling album is a Woman who does not yet know me, but wants me. I think that’s why she fought to be with him. I thinks that why she accepted the ultimately flawed, but incredibly big hearted man that is my crazy daddy as her own.
She peers at the camera with a look of a runner starting a race, poised.
“I’m coming, I’ll be there”
And she was.
Everyday I’m thankful for it.