Thursday, January 17, 2008

Missing Memories....

It is amazing some of the things that we remember from our childhood. There are things that, perhaps, I should forget but still stain my memory still to this day. These are the things that contribute to the pieces of me that often come undone.


My Mom had 4 daughters. She raised us by herself(except for the occasional live in boyfriend), up until the end. I can vividly remember when she started to get sick. I was in the 7th grade and school had been in for about a month.

I remember, it was a Thursday, when I got off the bus and found my Grandfather waiting at the bus stop for us to get off. This was really, really strange, especially being that we were latchkey kids since I was 7 years old.

Being the fat kid I was, I got excited, thinking he was taking us for a snack. But when we got into his Ford Bronco, and he turned off Mahalia Jackson's wailings and got quiet. He took a deep breath and told us that we were going to start staying with Him and Grandma for a while and that our Momma was real sick and was going in the hospital.

Living with my Grandparents was cool, at first. They spoiled us every chance they could. We got all our favorite meals cooked for us (Huge plus in the fat girl department). And because we hastily moved in, we also got new clothes. My sisters and I were oblivious to the hushed conversations that abruptly stopped when we entered the room. Why should we have been, we had just went shopping, got Blue Wack-A-Doo flavored Slurpees before dinner, nobody bothered us about homework, and we were getting ready to have my favorite meal...smothered pork chops, sweet peas & rice pilaf (I have not eaten any of the above meal since).

That following Sunday, after church, we were allowed to go visit my Momma at the hospital...no one prepared us for what were going to see. My plus-sized Momma, had wasted away in a matter of days. The doctor at her bedside patted me on my shoulder while the nurse nearby just shook her head and whispered "Dem poo' babies". None of them had the heart to tell us that our Momma was DYING.... This later on pissed me off. I stayed angry at alot of people because of this and still hang on to threads of hate today. What I also hang on to are the unimportant details that I should forget.

I sometimes have panic attacks because I feel like I can't remember my Momma any more. I have times when it is hard to remember what her face looked like, how her hair was styled, what perfume she wore, her favorite color, her favorite food, how her voice sounded, her favorite song...these missing memories have a tendency to make me come undone....

But then I get a sign, something that I have overlooked many, many times before. It has been kept awaiting the right time to reveal itself to me, in a time when it sooths my aching heart.

My mother passed away at Bethesda Memorial Hospital, in Boynton Beach, Florida on Thursday, September 19, 1991...I was 12 1/2 years old, my sisters, Shahara,11 years old, Crystal (7 years old), Chianti(6 years old)

Fast forward to today...

My Drama Princess has been hounding me to paint her fingernails for days. I just was too busy or it was a tactic to avoid going to bed. I had looked at & painted her nails a thousand times before but had never noticed that she has the oddly long & slender fingers.......that my Momma had.

To this, I say thank you to the universe for sending this RIGHT ON TIME....

3 comments:

Shari said...

Blogging sure is good therapy, isn't it? Sounds like it was a lot for a young girl and her sisters to go through. It's probably good that you can write about it.

Jenn said...

The things that we keep, without even knowing.

WILLIAM said...

impressive post.