Mother's, especially single ones, have it worse than many assume/presume. Absent fathers remove support/attention from a 'trusted' friend and take away such small agenda's of the woman left behind by death, divorce or running away . . . for a younger/newer model or ideal. I did not see the mother and so asked the grandmother if she were the 'mother' of the dog she offered for sale.
"No. I am the Grandmother of . . . the dog and a young man who seemed late adolescent. The yard was strewn with dresses, a few baseball caps, sundry household items . . . they were compelled to move, I assumed to tighter, smaller, quarters.
Unconscious at the time, I'd made a U turn in the middle of traffic to get back to the sight of a woman pasting a Yard Sale sign above a pink knit child's dress . . . I now realize my mind then, was preoccupied with placing the dog amongst a list of Therapaw friends, who have friends and contact amongst a community of friends who care for strays . . . or those abandoned by death or runaways. Though the price asked was $50 improbable for an elderly Chihuahua I fell to considering its future in my home; though in agony for the dog, I explained my back story with pets and that M had suggested my Annie was an "only child." Then left. No crying but nearly so; for both "Rags" the one I had to put down for peeing on everything and the dog left behind.
Mother decorated my bedroom with two Vincent van Gogh reproductions, approximately large Post Card size. It was after we moved from, next to the railroad tracks, to a northerly Old Greenwich estate divided for new housing. The house, although previously owned was redecorated by my family. I remember mother's heart break that the house she wanted had been taken off the market . . . a lovely, well crafted, by the owner home upon the shores of the North Mianus River, in Cos Cob, Connecticut . . . remembering her tears.
While selecting the paintings used to illustrate my previous post (below) I ran across the one's from my bedroom. Then all the connections between my mother and myself became different.
Dad, though handsome to himself, vain, charming and selfish beyond telling, save that he was profligate in all things for himself alone; was otherwise cheap towards his family; mother especially. Meaning he was an absentee husband/father drunk or sober.
I have detailed her behavior towards her children elsewhere amongst my posts. So will say only this. I now understand, coupled with her childhood, well known to me, was a continuous vicious slander for her being a girl instead of a boy.
Healing is available if only you ask. There are many different paths yet only one goal: Love. Or what we call "God."
. . . so i now forgive, not only mother, but myself for hating her for terrorizing me and Janina, my sister.
. . . and praise more: M. For her genius in healing me as I believe, and now have more faith in, her suggesting, by gentle and few words, all the steps between our first meeting and now. Please pray, as I do, for her healing from breast cancer. . . .We all creatures/life have a genius for Love.
120923 04:17 Mothers
© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
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