She was a tiny, tiny woman. She appeared frail and fragile. She did not seek nor take the spotlight often. She was funny, even when she was serious. She was smart, sassy, discerning and wise. She was iron willed and stubborn. She had a temper like a hurricane, and was most dangerous when she got quiet and angry, like the eye of a storm. She was the first woman I ever loved, and the only woman I will love every day of my life.
She carried me, then toted me. She cared for me and loved me, even when I did not deserve it or appreciate it. She involved herself in anything I was interested in. She gave me her love for books and for reading. She made me a learner, curious and interested. She taught me to cook the three things she knew how to cook well, and still, I can't make them like she did.
She was funny, so very funny. She was sharp, razor sharp. She was always paying attention, even when you did not notice. She believed that children do best outside, and she wasn't afraid to lock you out to prove it. She did her best at cleaning, but it did not necessarily interest her at all.
She loved her children, but her husband was her world. She taught us what a loving relationship looked like, along with the man that loved her more than the world. She never quite got bills and money straight, but somehow, we always had what we needed for sports and school. We never knew we were poor, we just knew we were loved.
She reigned in conjunction with another queen. They ruled separate empires that were joined together. I never once recall them quarreling or arguing. I never once remember them hugging. But there was real, palpable love between them. And they taught us together that while you may be at the pinnacle in your world, where it overlaps, you act accordingly.
She did not approve of a single girlfriend I ever had. She never said so, but she did not, and you could tell and they could tell. I, of course, was oblivious. I was oblivious a lot, and yet she never stopped teaching and instructing me. She understood the tactics of love, and the tactics of her most hotheaded and stubborn subject, me. She was unafraid of my anger, and it was powerless against her. She accepted none of it, and curtailed it at will, even when I could not.
She was everything to me for my happiest and most carefree years. She is in my earliest memories. I can still feel her arms around me, smell the Skin So Soft and perfume she wore, and see her sitting, knees drawn up, chin settled on them while she listened to me. I can see the tears in her eyes when we were hurt. I can remember the panic she felt when I was hurt and needed the ER. I can feel the concern and worry still over every stitch and X-ray and fever.
She kept us in check, no one could have kept us in line. She imparted a clear faith to us. While it was never completely in keeping with the Catholic faith she adopted, it was ever present. She very deeply believed in God and felt His presence all around her. She was an earth child, and a believer. She somehow combined them peacefully and without contradiction within her. She saw to our education in faith and was more adamant that we attend CCD than regular school. She never once missed church with us, that I remember, when we were not all ill. She was a different woman in that pew at Sacred Heart. Iron willed, she would fix that stare like a laser and beat the stillness into us when required.
She told the best stories. It was a natural talent that we always stopped and paid attention to. Her Aunt Ruby's house became our Stephen King as children. It was a menacing and dark place in her stories that chilled us to the bone. Yet, she freely took us there with her to visit, whenever we were in Florida. I was mostly terrified to be in the house, but went looking for the blood spot at the bottom of the stairs and kept an eye on the kitchen, to see when the cabinets would get emptied out.
She was a water creature, most at home in the water. Yet, she absolutely detested going out in boats. I can never remember her on the boat with us, ever. Or "swimming" in the river with us. But, she required a pool be built, and it was. Then Hurricane David destroyed it and an above ground appeared. She swam like an alligator with just her nose and eyes visible, with almost no trail. She loved the water, and all of our vacations involved some clear spring or fresh river to swim in. I never understood the difference between our salty and marshy rivers and the clear spring fed rivers she loved, until much later.
She loved all her family. She was isolated from her sisters, brothers and mother, but somehow kept in touch and in the know. We went faithfully every year to see her family in Florida. It was a mystical place in our childhood, full of life and mysterious plants, soil and water. It was also full of cousins, that we only saw then. Strangely like us, and yet very different, there were close bonds, if not often renewed. She fostered that, and made us understand the value and need of family. She taught us that family did not mean daily exposure, it meant love and connection.
She was the queen of our small world. She was refuge and relief. She was beauty and love. She was all things and all answers. She was Mama.
I loved her then, and I love her still. In June, it will be 19 years since she passed. Not a day has passed since that I have not thought of her, have not missed her singular presence. It is an ache that does not fill up. There are so many wishes. I wish she had known my children longer. I wish she had seen and held all her grandchildren. I wish she had seen me make Chief. I wish she had known the man I have become.
But, inside me, I believe she has. I don't know if folks in heaven look down on us. I don't know if they ever take their attention away from worshipping and praising God, and the glory of His presence. I am not selfish enough to demand that she does. But, I think that heaven works in ways we do not fully understand.
I don't think the bonds of love and care we forge here on Earth are broken in heaven, or God would not have made them so strong and so lasting. I think they are part of what makes heaven wondrous and wonderful. I think that all those in heaven are still watching us, applauding, or praying, as needed. I think that there is never a moment we are not all in her gaze, that she is not watching over us and loving us.
I pray it is so. And, I pray that we will see each other again in heaven. That I make it, because I know her soul found rest there. I know that, because she knew it. She was at peace with her fate, and had been for some time. She was unafraid of her end, though she knew it was imminent for years. She worried over us, and Daddy. I think she knew that it would break something deep in Daddy that would never heal, when she passed, but she could not stop it. She worried about that and it was always in her mind, and her conversations with me, after the doctors settled her doom. Daddy never again was the man we knew, and never stopped loving and missing her after she passed.
She was everything to him. His entire definition of life and happiness had her at the center. Since he passed in December, I have to think that he is finally happy again, 18 long years later. I could only be so sad, because they were back together. And, if ever two people deserved their happy ever after, it was them. She was his rock and his center. As she was to all of us. And he was her soulmate.
She was wonderful, beautiful and loving. I cannot imagine there was ever a better mother, because there is not anything I would change. And I have never, not one day in my life, not been completely in love with her.
I miss you Mama. I hope that there is peace in heaven, with Daddy and Wanda and Jeffrey by your side, with Jan and Judy, Robert and Leon, and Joann. And I hope you all get to hold your Mama's hand, and she knows you all. Because, isn't that all of our wish, at the very core, just to be still, be happy, and be holding Mama's hand?
I love you Mama. Wish I could get a hug. When we see each other again, boy, do I have some stories to tell you, and boy did you miss some good books. Happy Mother's Day Joyce. I hope heaven is Mother's Day every day, because you deserve it. It is in my heart.
Love,
Joey
GLYASDI
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