I hate Thanksgiving...
I used to love Thanksgiving, but not anymore. Five years ago, November 25th 1999 at 4:18am, on Thanksgiving morning, my momma died.
It used to be her favorite holiday. Christmas had too much pressure... buying presents, wrapping them, the tree, cards, finding parking spaces at the mall, etc... that's just too much. Thanksgiving was just a lot of cooking; but the whole family and our friends were there eating and drinking and laughing.
It's a fucked up anniversary. Not only do you have the date itself; but there's also the Holiday, which changes every year. Well, this year, the holiday and the date match. I hate thinking about it, but I never want to forget either.
My mom found out she had cancer in one of her lungs. The removed the lung and hoped it had not spread. She was not even supposed to make it through the surgery. They didn't think she had the strength. "Strength"... people have absolutely no fucking idea what real strength is. She was about five feet tall, and MAYBE weighed 100 pounds soaking wet with rocks in her pockets. My dad, on the other hand, was about six feet tall, weighs 240 pounds, and was a professional boxer, a Golden Gloves runner-up actually. Dad sounds a lot "stronger" huh? If I were in a barroom brawl, I would pick my mom to be on my side over my dad EVERY time. Not only did she make it through the surgery, but she lived another year with only one lung and more cancer spreading through her body... all the while, medical "experts" telling us she would probably only live another month or two. She was, without a doubt, the strongest person I have ever met.
Not because of who she could beat up, not because she could lift really heavy objects... She raised a family of four kids with no help from my dad (who, at the time was a stupid drunk asshole who would gamble or drink his paychecks away... but he is A LOT better now, and I love him dearly also. I hated him for a long time, but now I understand him and have seen him turn his life around, and love him for it.), worked two jobs, took care of all of the household chores and still managed to make time to be there for baseball games, plays, my sister's dance recitals, my brother's debate meets, pet care, chef, doctor, lawyer (mostly for me), and good friend. It's funny but not, I remember thinking that when she was in the hospital that it was the first time I ever saw her sit still for any extended period of time.
You think you know what "strength" is? You have no idea what strength is. You think you're strong because you can bench-press 300 pounds? Please. You think you're strong because you are cock diesel and weigh 200 pounds with muscles on top of muscles? You have got to be kidding me. She did everything I just mentioned, and at the same time helped turn her drunk loser husband's life around without even considering a divorce, and raised four good kids who became even better adults. My brother and sisters are all married, have kids, own homes. One of them is a lawyer, one is an interior designer, and the third decided to put off child psychology to be a full-time mom for three kids (which, in itself, is more than a forty hour a week job). Maybe I would not be defined as "successful" compared to them, but I have an amazing work ethic, know right from wrong, try really hard to be a good person, and know that I am equipped to achieve whatever I want. And if you ask any of us, we would tell you that we were able to get what we do have because of what we learned from our mom.
Sometimes I get accused of acting "gay" or being too "feminine"... well, not that I need to defend myself to anybody, but I never had a strong male figure growing up. I had my mom. I'd rather be more like her than like my dad was. You can all think what you want, I really don't give a fuck. Another lesson I learned from her: know yourself, and do what you know is right for you, don't compromise your morals just to "fit in". One friend who loves and respects you for who you are and what you believe is worth more than twenty phonies who will turn on you whenever it suits them.
Not only was she like a hero to me, she was my best friend. She always gave me support and drove me to want more and do better. She always said, "Even if you are a shit-sweeper, make sure you are the best shit-sweeper anyone's ever seen." I get shit about taking my stupid, insignificant job too seriously... but I refuse to strive to be mediocre, which a lot of people seem content with nowadays. And she wouldn't blindly coddle me either, she did not hesitate to put me in my place when necessary. She must have broken hundreds of wooden spoons on me as well as a frying pan once... when I deserved it. But I learned from it. She was hard when necessary (and believe me, I made it extremely necessary when I was growing up), but she made sure that you knew when she was proud of you too.
She was also the glue that held my family together. Since she has been gone, my relationship with my brother and sisters has deteriorated. My dad has become a completely different person though. Even before he knew she was sick, he was turning his life around. After she died, I was worried about how he would react... thinking he would go back to his old ways, drinking to forget. But he didn't, it seems that he realized he now had to take over for her, being there for his kids and grandchildren... making sure they knew all about her and never forget her. I'm proud of him for how he's changed his ways. And I know I can thank my mother for that as well. If he was with any other woman, they probably would have left him... and rightly so. But she refused to ever give up on what she believed in. She knew he was a better person than he may have been acting like, and stayed with him through the bad, knowing it could become good again. That is strength. Yes, it may take strength to walk away from something that you may want but is bad for you. But the amount of strength it takes to never give up on what you know is good, but may be difficult, is immeasurable. Yet another quality I have gained from her: my mom didn't raise quitters. Many a time I have thought "I don't want to go on", "this is too hard"... but because of her, I was able to know that sometimes you have to work hard to get things that are worth it.
This is one of my favorite pictures of her. She had just planted that tree in our front yard. My nephew "helped". He was too young to understand what had happened when she died. It was heartbreaking to hear him ask when "marna" (his word for grandma") was going to come visit him after he had not seen her for a month or so.
But it makes me so happy to hear him tell his two little sisters stories about her. I hold that close to my heart. In a way, even though she has died, she will never truly be "gone" as long as the stories about her and the morals and principles she taught us keep getting passed on.
So, Happy Thanksgiving. Please be sure that you remember what this holiday is really about. Even if it's not out loud, please give thanks for what you have in your life that is truly good. I will always be thankful for the time I had with my mother, I don't need a holiday to remember that.
It used to be her favorite holiday. Christmas had too much pressure... buying presents, wrapping them, the tree, cards, finding parking spaces at the mall, etc... that's just too much. Thanksgiving was just a lot of cooking; but the whole family and our friends were there eating and drinking and laughing.
It's a fucked up anniversary. Not only do you have the date itself; but there's also the Holiday, which changes every year. Well, this year, the holiday and the date match. I hate thinking about it, but I never want to forget either.
My mom found out she had cancer in one of her lungs. The removed the lung and hoped it had not spread. She was not even supposed to make it through the surgery. They didn't think she had the strength. "Strength"... people have absolutely no fucking idea what real strength is. She was about five feet tall, and MAYBE weighed 100 pounds soaking wet with rocks in her pockets. My dad, on the other hand, was about six feet tall, weighs 240 pounds, and was a professional boxer, a Golden Gloves runner-up actually. Dad sounds a lot "stronger" huh? If I were in a barroom brawl, I would pick my mom to be on my side over my dad EVERY time. Not only did she make it through the surgery, but she lived another year with only one lung and more cancer spreading through her body... all the while, medical "experts" telling us she would probably only live another month or two. She was, without a doubt, the strongest person I have ever met.
Not because of who she could beat up, not because she could lift really heavy objects... She raised a family of four kids with no help from my dad (who, at the time was a stupid drunk asshole who would gamble or drink his paychecks away... but he is A LOT better now, and I love him dearly also. I hated him for a long time, but now I understand him and have seen him turn his life around, and love him for it.), worked two jobs, took care of all of the household chores and still managed to make time to be there for baseball games, plays, my sister's dance recitals, my brother's debate meets, pet care, chef, doctor, lawyer (mostly for me), and good friend. It's funny but not, I remember thinking that when she was in the hospital that it was the first time I ever saw her sit still for any extended period of time.
You think you know what "strength" is? You have no idea what strength is. You think you're strong because you can bench-press 300 pounds? Please. You think you're strong because you are cock diesel and weigh 200 pounds with muscles on top of muscles? You have got to be kidding me. She did everything I just mentioned, and at the same time helped turn her drunk loser husband's life around without even considering a divorce, and raised four good kids who became even better adults. My brother and sisters are all married, have kids, own homes. One of them is a lawyer, one is an interior designer, and the third decided to put off child psychology to be a full-time mom for three kids (which, in itself, is more than a forty hour a week job). Maybe I would not be defined as "successful" compared to them, but I have an amazing work ethic, know right from wrong, try really hard to be a good person, and know that I am equipped to achieve whatever I want. And if you ask any of us, we would tell you that we were able to get what we do have because of what we learned from our mom.
Sometimes I get accused of acting "gay" or being too "feminine"... well, not that I need to defend myself to anybody, but I never had a strong male figure growing up. I had my mom. I'd rather be more like her than like my dad was. You can all think what you want, I really don't give a fuck. Another lesson I learned from her: know yourself, and do what you know is right for you, don't compromise your morals just to "fit in". One friend who loves and respects you for who you are and what you believe is worth more than twenty phonies who will turn on you whenever it suits them.
Not only was she like a hero to me, she was my best friend. She always gave me support and drove me to want more and do better. She always said, "Even if you are a shit-sweeper, make sure you are the best shit-sweeper anyone's ever seen." I get shit about taking my stupid, insignificant job too seriously... but I refuse to strive to be mediocre, which a lot of people seem content with nowadays. And she wouldn't blindly coddle me either, she did not hesitate to put me in my place when necessary. She must have broken hundreds of wooden spoons on me as well as a frying pan once... when I deserved it. But I learned from it. She was hard when necessary (and believe me, I made it extremely necessary when I was growing up), but she made sure that you knew when she was proud of you too.
She was also the glue that held my family together. Since she has been gone, my relationship with my brother and sisters has deteriorated. My dad has become a completely different person though. Even before he knew she was sick, he was turning his life around. After she died, I was worried about how he would react... thinking he would go back to his old ways, drinking to forget. But he didn't, it seems that he realized he now had to take over for her, being there for his kids and grandchildren... making sure they knew all about her and never forget her. I'm proud of him for how he's changed his ways. And I know I can thank my mother for that as well. If he was with any other woman, they probably would have left him... and rightly so. But she refused to ever give up on what she believed in. She knew he was a better person than he may have been acting like, and stayed with him through the bad, knowing it could become good again. That is strength. Yes, it may take strength to walk away from something that you may want but is bad for you. But the amount of strength it takes to never give up on what you know is good, but may be difficult, is immeasurable. Yet another quality I have gained from her: my mom didn't raise quitters. Many a time I have thought "I don't want to go on", "this is too hard"... but because of her, I was able to know that sometimes you have to work hard to get things that are worth it.
This is one of my favorite pictures of her. She had just planted that tree in our front yard. My nephew "helped". He was too young to understand what had happened when she died. It was heartbreaking to hear him ask when "marna" (his word for grandma") was going to come visit him after he had not seen her for a month or so.
But it makes me so happy to hear him tell his two little sisters stories about her. I hold that close to my heart. In a way, even though she has died, she will never truly be "gone" as long as the stories about her and the morals and principles she taught us keep getting passed on.
So, Happy Thanksgiving. Please be sure that you remember what this holiday is really about. Even if it's not out loud, please give thanks for what you have in your life that is truly good. I will always be thankful for the time I had with my mother, I don't need a holiday to remember that.