(That's Polish for "Mother".)
This picture was probably the last one we took together. It was about 1998. We were near the Kennedy Space Center watching the space shuttle take off. A remarkable sight.
This Mother's Day has been a particularly melancholy one. I miss her more and more. If I had the chance to see her again, my first question would be, "How did you do it?"
Mom was a Polish immigrant who came to the US shores in 1949. World War II had just ended and her family had been released from the Nazi work camps. They spent their first months here in an Arkansas refugee camp. From there, people in New York sponsored them, allowing them to start their new lives on Long Island.
The acclamation had begun: Mom became a US citizen, learned the English language, went to a local high school and got her diploma. Shortly after that, she met my dad and the rest was history.
After struggling to become a part of this country, she had to quickly take on the role as wife and mother. A wife of an alcoholic and the working mother of four kids. I really don't know how she did it. She and my dad struggled financially, but there was always food (good food, as she was an excellent cook), and they did their best to provide for us. We knew we weren't rich, but they taught us the value of working hard for your paycheck. She would sometimes work extra jobs when money was needed. We would learn how to count money by counting the tips she made waitressing. This was after putting in a day wrapping meat in the supermarket.
Mom struggled with a great deal emotionally. It wasn't "proper" to discuss alcoholism, or your unruly kids, or finances outside the home. Everything was kept inside: the house, and sadly, her. Unfortunately, she harbored many grudges and didn't have the ability to let go of them. Demons got the best of her, especially after my father died. What we thought would be a time of liberation, selling the family home and relocating to Florida, became a time of hatred, loathing and martyrdom. That would be the beginning of her demise.
Her ill health and ill soul got the best of her. She died in 1999 (almost 10 years exactly after my dad passed) without anyone knowing. It was a very sad ending to a life that was lived for her children, and not for herself. This was a big lesson for me to learn: that I need to take care of myself so I can take care of my kids. Kind of like the oxygen mask on an airplane. They tell you to put yours on first before you put one on your kid. Makes sense to me, but obviously not to her.
Like I said earlier, I miss Mom. I find myself saying "Mom-isms" that I swore I wouldn't say:
"Sorry didn't do it, you did!"
"Don't know the answer? Look it up."
....and lots of other gems.
Mom, I hope you're finally at peace. While I miss you, I know you're better off. You don't have to struggle anymore. And since you're not too busy, can you please send me some of your recipes? I really miss your cooking.....
Until next time....cook away!
