Yesterday I disappeared. I was oblivious to the world outside of me. I needed some time; time to meditate, re-focus on my goals, replenish my energy. I ignored the fact that I owned a phone and shut off communication to everything and everyone. I accomplished much while I was away. For hours I was locked away in thought and when I go there I become quite busy. I ironed two weeks worth of school uniforms for David, I washed, dried, and folded laundry, I cleaned house, went shopping for household items, went for a 1/2 hour walk, and even cooked. My mother would have been proud of me.
My mother, Helen Mae Virginia Spain, died in 1967 at the young age of 33. She died of health complications but not before giving life to 7 very fortunate children. I was the 6th of the litter. I was nine years old when she passed and most of the memories I have of her are foggy and but a blur. I often think of my youngest sister, Cynthia, who is a few years younger than I am and how earnestly see grasps at any recollection of our mother from the lips of me and my older siblings. Our mother must be somewhat of a fantasy to her and it hurts inside to know this. Helen was a strong woman. I am told that she married my father, Wilbert, at the tender age of 15. My father was a military man and mom did nearly all of the raising of the children. I can vividly recall how she taught us how to iron clothes, sew, do laundry, cook, bake, clean the house thoroughly, keep my own body clean, and to respect the authority of my parents and my older brothers and sisters. I remember I once asked her "Mom, why do you have me doing all of this woman work"? "There is no such thing as women's work and men's work", she quickly replied. "I'm teaching you to do these things so that you will never have to depend on a woman to do anything for you". My father agreed with her tutelage but he had his own agenda for us. Dad was a soldier and he would wake us early on Saturday mornings to wash out the trash cans, perform "police call" around the house, and apply Brasso to every fixture that had copper and gold. Mom kept a very clean home and one would not believe that seven children lived under her roof.
She somehow was able to give individual love to each of us. I remember when she began to get ill. At times she would stare out of our living room window for what seemed to be hours. I was too young to inquire as to what she might have been thinking, but now as I reflect back on those times I can imagine that perhaps she was sensing her body losing hold on life. Perhaps she wondered what would become of her children should the worst happen. Maybe she prayed and spoke intently to God and got everything right between them. Or maybe she just disappeared for a time.
I could go on and on about several memories that stood out concerning my mother. I am proud when I look around my own home and see traces of Helen Spain. She taught me well. But it doesn't end there. I see her in all of my siblings, especially Cynthia. Not only does she look and walk like my mother but she has so many of her tendencies that it is remarkable.
I sit here typing in silence but my mind is bursting with the sounds of my home during my childhood days. You only live this life once. Mistakes will be made, bridges will be burned and some will be mended. Love will be found and lost.
Love someone extra today.
I love you all.
Dennis
