Posted on 05/12/2018 4:36:33 PM PDT by Diana in Wisconsin
So...on this Mother's Day Eve...tell us about, 'Your Mom.'
Did you have a good one? Did you have a bad one? Did you lose her too soon, or are you like me and even though you still have her you KNOW you'll be lost without her...even though you're SUPPOSED to be a Grown-Up at this point in time. *HEART*
Please include Step-Moms as applicable...because I'm, 'The Most Evil Stepmother*' of them all, LOL!
*Not really; my (adult) boys respect, adore and FEAR me...as they should.
My mother was the nicest, most inoffensive person you would ever want to meet. Didn’t like John McCain, though.
She would have turned 100 in February. Passed away five years ago this month.
My mother was a child of the Depression, born to immigrant parents. Her father died when she was 5. Her mother worked as a maid. Sometimes all they had to eat were beet greens,but her mother was too proud to go to the soup lines. When my mother graduated high school and went to work, the first thing she did was pay off the mortgage on her mother’s house. She married a cousin’s wartime buddy (who had some major injuries). She raised 4 kids with love, warmth, and discipline (though I didn’t truly appreciate her until I had kids of my own). She kept the extended family close and in touch with each other.
Just imagine if there was a doll that looked like George Costanza’s mother!!
My mom was great. Don’t know her political stance. But after my father died she took care of us 4 boys. If we were Catholic I would request she be nominated to be a saint.
left when I was 4 or 5.
Never saw her again.
Died when I was 18.
Just imagine if there was a doll that looked like George Costanzas mother!!
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No. I don’t want to go there. And fear the answer on whether or not Laz would hit that.
Mine was never a “Mom.” She was Mama. Always loyal to me, my two brothers and one sister, no matter our failings.
We were lucky.
It’s sad but no one cried at her funeral. She wasn’t a bad mother just incapable due to the way SHE was raised.
As one who has some understanding of the physiology and the genetics of clinical depression I'd gently encourage you to do some research and then,perhaps,reconsider your position.
All how ever wanted was to hugged by my Mother.
I said, ‘Bad Moms, too.’ Let ‘er rip...
Not everyone is blessed with a good Mom. We either rise above it or it ruins us.
The choice is STILL ours. ((Gratia))
What a wonderful thread. Thank you for starting it. My mom died when I was 15. I regret not knowing her as me being an adult. I barely knew her. Mother’s day tears me up every year. She was taken too soon and I miss her terribly. If you still have yours, tell her much you appreciate her and above all, mean it!!
Mine is world class.
She’s got a soul of tempered steel. She never failed at anything she tried, and is smarter than 99.9% of humanity. She takes no crap from anyone, believes in making your own way, and loves her family.
They don’t make them like that anymore.
My mother has never cared about me and she never will. When I finally realized this I was deeply hurt, but time passes and, through suffering, God heals and strengthens.
For the first time in years, this year she called me on my birthday. She must be getting very bored in the nursing home. However, shes my mother and so now I call regularly in addition to praying for her.
Please pray for her.
Thanks for the kind and caring words. It was not easy being a kid, but I believe it served me well. I’ve led an adventurous and tough life on the ocean and off. My childhood made me tough, which is what I needed to be.
Luckily, in my later teen years I found a place at a marina with a lot of good men as examples and a lot of caring women as well. It gave me a good start and well informed me on what to look for in a spouse.
My wife of over 25 years has been a great Mother to our kids and a fine wife to me. So, I guess it all ended well, or at least better than it started.
My mon and dad left a communist country, late in their lives, and started from nothing here so we boys could have freedom.
When I was a kid I was embarrassed by our poverty and our immigrant ways. I’m glad I had them long enough for me to realize what a gift God gave me!
My Mom, who was the most beautiful, vivacious lady I’ve ever seen or experienced, died in 2011 because a doctor mis-medicated her for a rather small incidence of tachycardia. She was 88 years old, and I miss her dearly every day. It has soured me on the whole medical profession and those people who tell us they are doing something for our own good. I’m sorry to sound so bitter, but FR is the only resource I have to express myself.
Memories are difficult to face right now as this is my 2nd Mothers Day without her, so Im trying not to dwell too much on any of that.
But my mom loved Mother’s Day and so I’ll say a few words in her honor.
I’m not sure why (because I often felt her life should have been somehow easier or better), but she would say she lived a full life.
She married young and was the wife of a career military man, a war veteran — and times were hard, as they were for many. But she was always so proud of my dad for his service - and that pride extended to all who served ... even at times telling strangers in uniform “thank you” - or paying for their meal, etc.
My mom faced many obstacles and difficulties throughout her life — being a military wife with all that comes with it — and later with family issues, losing loved ones, and the usual things of growing older. Yet she never gave up. She had amazing strength of mind and of spirit.
She buried 3 children, one in infancy, and two late in life - without the comfort of her husband beside her.
On the first day of November, I held her hand for the entire day, and we prayed together until she had to go. Then I drove her up to the North Georgia mountains and settled her in next to the love of her life on November 8, 2016.
Ah, c'mon. You can be more truthful than that ;)
Larger.
Than.
Life.
Glamorous gal, 5’9 and leggy blond. Lived to 88. Ran over everyone else’s opinions and preferences. Infuriating and boy my dad loved her. He out lived her by six months and finally died, 13 months after a stroke, on Valentine’s Day. His last words, hampered by the stroke when asked what he wanted were “My Wife.”
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