On this day (4/16) in 1960, in Kokomo Indiana, my mother was born. Her life was full of what I can only assume was a hard childhood. Her mother, my memaw was not married and in her later years confessed to me that she became pregnant with my mother during a tryst in a church in her hometown of Leavenworth, IN.
Soon she would have a sibling, from a different father. I know as sisters they loved each other very much, and her new stepfather legally adopted my mother, but there was something she never elaborated about that she didn’t like about him.
From the combination of things both my mom and dad said to me, my mom grew up not knowing her real father, but she eventually got to. I don’t know if she was still in high school or not, but it was around the time she was 18. The experience was not what she had hoped for it to be, she had additional 2 half sisters. In the end, my father (who had just started dating her at the time) had to drive down to Floyds Knobs to get her. According to my father, he ended up putting a bullet through his head around the time I was born.
Motherhood wasn’t something my mom was prepared for, or enjoyed. She was still trying to figure out who she was when she became my mom. They were some hard years for her, trying to find her place in this world. It’s then when I think her never ending search for a “dad” began.
My father loved my mom deeply, and wholeheartedly until the day he passed away. Unlike my own experiences in life, he was always a part of the family to which he had divorced from. Even as an adult, my dad would come over to my moms for holiday events.
My mom on the other hand, spent several years cheating on my father, going to parties and spending time with darker ends of society. I even have memories of being at these gatherings with her, drugs and alcohol on full display, sex everywhere. The TV was a tool used to distract my eyes from what was going on.
My parents eventually divorced, with my father uncommonly retaining full custody of me. My mother could have visitation with me, but often didn’t have a place for me or transportation. I don’t think she ever paid child support.
For years, my mom disappeared. She was with her new man on the run from the law. Originally they had plans to go to Washington State but the gas money ran out in Texas, and that’s where they stayed. She eventually returned in an effort to get away from him but that was only temporary. It was however a sign of life getting better, as she started the job she would hold for almost 20 years then, at General Electric.
Through no choice of my own, I was forced to live with her between sixth grade and the age of majority. They were best of times, they were the worst of times. For the most part, it was like living with a room mate. There were a couple of times where I genuinely felt like I had a mother; but I always relied upon my dad for emotional support.
She supported me financially. She gave me what I can only call a middle class life, but our family unit was definitely shattered. I would often times purchase drugs for her. She would buy me a carton of cigarettes a week. She only had 1 rule, that if I was doing something illegal – I stay put. I kept my word on that rule, as I felt that it was the single thing I could do to honor her.
As an adult, her life seemed to be one series of disasters after the other until a large disaster reformed her life, she was laid off. The GE factory that I had even worked at was coming to a stand still. It’s now been closed for years. Through a program they have however, she was able to essentially skip the line and get a new job at the GE Appliance Park in Louisville, Kentucky. At the start it was a little rough, but she eventually was able to buy a home! Something neither of my parents had really done, owned a home.
Then, in the spirit of Star Trek, “Shakka, the walls fell.”
She lost that job too, she had amassed a large amount of debt and had nothing else to cling to but the inheritance her own mother left her of roughly $50k in an investment account and shared ownership of her home with my aunt, a home I always adored.
Unbeknownst to her, my aunt had allowed her youngest son and his newly started family to live there. I understood and appreciated it. It was better for someone to be there than for it to be empty, abandoned. I always wanted to keep that house in the family, no matter what.
With nowhere else to turn, and nothing else to lay claim to, my mother filed a protection order on her own nephew, who is an active member of the US Army. This forced him to leave the home his own mother let him stay in, that she legally owned 50% of.
It was during this time that I was going through my own circles of hell, with a divorce under my belt, a protective order on me and pending criminal charges happening. I had just gotten the job that I still have, giving me a level of financial freedom I had never known before. A load of responsibility came along with that however.
So here she was, my mother, in my deceased memaw’s house, “cleaning” it. There is no power, there is no water – there are no utilities. She asked for my help, and I did the only thing I felt that I could. I bought her as many non perishable goods I could, and loads of bottled water. I took her out to dinner, and I filled her gas tank up. I didn’t want her to die.
It was when she asked me to buy her cigarettes that I drew the line. I had tried to get her to quit smoking and at minimum start vaping for years. It is also at this point when the physical track on my mother went cold. I only heard from her two times after that day. All other information I have is 2nd hand or from law enforcement, doing welfare checks.
I found out years later that my memaw’s home, that her and my papaw had worked many hours of overtime and put lots of blood, sweat and tears into turning into the house of this grandchild’s dreams, was sold due to being behind on property taxes. It was sold to my half-sister’s uncle. Who has now turned it into something I don’t even recognize anymore. I refuse to even drive down that stretch of road anymore. My heart can’t bare to see it. They spent their lives trying to make the lives of their descendants better; and in the end the temple to which our family celebrated many of the things families celebrate became the subject that tore ours apart. It hasn’t been the same since.
So, happy birthday mom. Your children are doing okay. You have a new grand daughter. Both of your children do love you, and we do worry about you. Your oldest grand daughter needs you back in her life, as you are the only grandparent she has left; and that has left a tremendous hole in her heart.