How unlikely it all was. She was 43 when she gave birth to her daughter in November of 1957. When she missed her period and then missed another, she chalked it up to menopause. Then another and another. Things were not really storybook like, unless you think storybook like means a sad story.
There were the things done to her - the love of her husband that was so often and tragically expressed by furious anger, verbal assaults, physical release of all sort.
There were the things she did to herself - the chain smoking, the black coffee from 7am to about noon, followed by the pffft-pop of that first can of beer opened at 12:01 and that continued to sound off, every hour or so during the day. Terms and conditions like lactose-intolerant had not yet been discovered so she just avoided any dairy, food that made her so sick. Food for her meant buttered white bread, canned peas and pieces of meat so overcooked as to be inedible. And man - could she swear like a trooper!
At about 5 months, the bulging tummy indicated that this might be more than menopause, so a doctor's appointment was scheduled. Imagine everyone's shock and surprise when they found out that a baby was well on the way. A baby thus far not really cared for or prepared for.
Now what?
It is not beyond the boundaries of imagination that termination of such a pregnancy was considered despite the legality of such an act and the morality, of course. I am not sure that it was the latter that drove this, more the former if there was even a conversation. I can't imagine, knowing all the characters involved in this story, I can't imagine that it did not pass through at least one of their minds.
Some way, some how - so unlikely, but then God is always very unlikely in how God acts and chooses - a baby was born at 9:42am on that second Tuesday of November. She bore a remarkably healthy and vibrant girl, weighing in at 6 pounds, 14 ounces. Not bad when you factor in the pre-natal care, conditions and so forth.
She brought her baby home and thus began another thread of life in this most unlikely of families, a most unlikely baby to a truly unlikely mother.
The mother was truly a rose among the thorns, but she was a rose indeed, ever blooming, albeit it tragically so much of the time.
That was my mother, Rose Rossi. This is my 19th Mother's Day without her. I cry at this one as I have cried at all the others. Despite all the unlikely and so often unhappy things I bring up, my life is a testament to a woman who endured much and who in her own way, gave her life for me.
I love you mama, I love you.
There Will Be Bread... When we gather around the table and break bread together, we are transformed not only individually but also as community. We, people from different ages and races, with different backgrounds and histories, become one body." -Henri Nouwen
Oh Fran...I love you so much....
ReplyDeleteAnd I you, Shanah, I love you.
ReplyDeleteI wish you had gotten to know my mama, she was quite a character. I stand in amazement of how G-d crafts us so lovingly, we are ever the clay in G-d's hands.
It is quite remarkable how the pots seemingly misthrown become reshapen and how pots that turn into shards, become whole again.
Happy Mother's Day to you. You and your own beautiful mother are both quite present in my heart today.
Fran, so very beautifully written. You've probably heard me say this before, but -- I had an epiphany at some point in my thirties when I realized -- after declaring over and over, "I DON'T want to be like my mother" -- that my mom didn't want to be that kind of a mother either. So I started thinking, "I want to be the mother that I know my own mother wanted to be."
ReplyDeleteHappy Mothers' Day, Fran!
I am weeping. I have wonderful memories of your mom. She made me laugh. Remember when we did our Tom Jones impressions in your living room - your mom was cheering us on and laughing with us.
ReplyDeleteHappy Mothers Day, Fran.
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad it worked out as it did.
Lovely, my dear Fran.
ReplyDeleteHappy Mother's Day.
Fran:
ReplyDeleteI would say that our mothers are so much alike, but I was child #4, daughter #3 and my mother didn't pop open her can of beer until 5 PM when she came home from work as a psychiatric nurse and got dinner going for (at least) 7 people.
Some people might look at your story and say "Tragedy," but I see yours as one of hope--that despite "untimeliness" and "unlikeliness" and extremely difficult circumstances, your mother could still love you with abandon and intensity, even when she forgot to love herself. This is beautiful.
I miss my ma too. working on #3 myself. Bless you Fran.
ReplyDeleteHowever, if you haven't read the original Mother's Day Proclamation, I have it posted --it ain't your mama's mother's day. For sure. It gave a whole new meaning to mother's day for me --we must mother the whole world in to peace.
A raw and honest post Fran, I hope you had a Happy Mothers Day..Hugs
ReplyDeleteA loving and honest tribute, and one that touched me. I was looking for a photo on my computer of my mother, inspired by this, when I found the photo of Cousin Bessie and did the shared birthday post instead. Still looking.
ReplyDeleteA blessed Mothers' Day to you, dear heart.
On the previous comment the WV was "ovestre" and my mind went in this direction: You mother thinking, "I thought I was over oestrus (ovestre) but it was you!"
ReplyDeleteI lost mine a year after yours, if my count is correct. I visited her Friday and today, at the cemetery. It never gets easier and I miss her terribly.
ReplyDeleteMy heart goes out to you. It sounds like your life was much harder then mine was. Mine always had lots of love, though no money and no drinking, that I am aware of. They were good parents, though poor and they wanted better for their children. I hope by living my life, I honor them.
Oh Fran, this is just beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThank you one and all for the comments.
ReplyDeleteIt helped me a lot to realize that most parents do the best they can, given what they know and their life circumstances. It helps me not to beat myself up too much when I fail in the "Mothering Olympics."
ReplyDeleteI give thanks for the life of your mother, Fran. What a wonderful gift she gave to the world when she had you!
Love,
Doxy
Beautiful post. And a Happy Belated Mother's day to you.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Fran.
ReplyDeleteBlessings, my sister.
Happy belated mother's day, Fran. My mom died about 8 years ago of lung cancer - mother's day is always kind of depressing now, but your post cheered me up. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteYour post brings tears to me,
ReplyDeleteIt reminds me of the words of the poet:
Guess now who holds thee? Death I said...
But then the silver answer rang,
Not death. But love."
Bless you dear Fran and the beams of grace that weave you and your mother together,
always.
Love,
M
My mother was the only person in this world who loved me unconditionally. She loved me for who I was not what she wanted me to be. Although I mourn my father and sister, it is my mother who I miss the most. She was a person and a mother who exemplified the true meaning of the word mother and child of God.
ReplyDeleteWhat Doxy said. Fran, I think you're discovering (as you have been these last couple of years) that parents do the best they can for where they were at the time, and most of the time, yeah, we carry some baggage, but we all mostly turn out relatively ok--and there is a peace when we get around to accepting "It just is." In my case it was the opposite--my parents were pretty young, and just fairly inexperienced with life in general.
ReplyDeleteBlessings, my cyber-twin.