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Posts Tagged ‘scared’

The best story my mom ever told was about me at the age of four years old. It was my mom’s 27th birthday and also a family reunion where for the first time all of her siblings were together under the same roof with their father, my grandpa. My aunt from Texas, California, and Michigan were there along with my three uncles. My three cousins were there as well. My grandpa’s double wide trailer was full of laughing adults and children all there for a good time.

After eating spaghetti and watching my mom giggle a lot after a few drinks, it was time for the cake. Let me preface this by explaining how protective I was of my mom. I can remember from a young age being afraid that something bad would happen to her. I only got to see her every other weekend because my dad had custody of me and that’s how it was worked out in the courts. During the two weeks I didn’t see her, I just had it in my mind that something terrible was going to happen to her and I would never see her again.

Everyone huddled around the round table as the candles were lit on my mom’s white birthday cake. After she blew them out, someone took their finger and smeared white icing on my mom’s face. I immediately freaked out and started screaming bloody murder thinking someone had just mutilated my mom’s face. I can remember her taking me to the bathroom, sitting me on the sink as she washed her face off. The whole time she is laughing and cooing at me trying to calm me down. I remember her handing me seashell shaped soaps to look at as a distraction.

It’s funny how intuitive children are. I always thought something bad would happen to her. A few days after her 49th birthday she was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer, she passed away two months later. Something bad did happen to my mom just as I suspected.

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Everyone wishes for a white Christmas; well my family does. We got more than we asked for. The snow fell, and fell, and fell; for days it snowed and snowed. My family started to call and ask if we should post pone Christmas. What? I thought it was ridiculous. Then, Christmas Eve service at church was canceled. The one year I got my mom to agree to go with me, they cancel it. Figures. Despite the snow, Christmas day my family made it to my paternal grandmother’s for our traditional George Christmas.

I’m a nervous passenger as it is, so the ride there was pretty nerve wracking for me. I just had to keep telling myself to breathe and put all my trust in the Lord that he would get us there safely; and He did.

That weekend, as it kept snowing, I wanted to take my mom to her mom’s for our Christmas together and I wasn’t going to let a little snow cause us to miss it. My husband and I loaded the gifts in the car, picked up my mom, and set out on the 45 minute drive there. The roads were terrible, causing my little car to fish tail every once in a while as it hit a slick patch. My mom bit her nails the whole way, while I prayed and took deep breaths. My step-daughter sat quietly and looked at books as if this were a normal trip to Grandma’s house. Every once in awhile I would scream, my husband would yell at me for scaring him, and my mom would chime in defending both of us. I don’t know how she managed that but it always worked. She would make us both feel like we were right and that it was okay for our feelings. We did make it there safely and were greeted by a shocked grandma snowed in for the winter in a nice cozy home full of warm Christmas cheer.

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