(Mom with my oldest siblings, Larry and Simone)
Who is this woman who I called Momma?
Who was she as this young Mother to my older siblings?
I was born to her when she was 43 years old,
certainly not the same woman she was in these photos.
By my birth, she already had children in their 20's.
As a child, I never thought of her as a young Mother to her first babies.
Now I wonder, who was this beautiful woman looking into the camera?
I can now only go by stories told to me by others.
It was taken after my Momma lost her full term still born baby, Rebecca.
My brother Peter was only a few years old and
had been planning for his baby sister who would be coming soon.
when she was found to be stillborn, my parents
wanted to make sure he understood what happened to her
so they layed her body out in our family home.
I see this young Momma, recuperating from a delivery
of a child she would not raise.
My brother is so happy to be with his Momma
but she seems so sad.
Her Bibles also laying beside her.
I did not know this woman in the photo,
I did not ask her the questions I would love to ask now?
What was that pain like having to bury children?
Then there is this one, Momma lying in Grand Isle,
perhaps sleeping while her photographer husband snaps a photo,
The momma I was raised with never played on a beach
like this with so much confidence.
By the time I was born, Momma and Dad didn't show much affection.
Yet the old photos tell a story of a different time.
A man who loved his wife and believed she was so beautiful
that he snapped many photos of her.
I love that idea!
Although, in my lifetime they were not very affectionate
there were things my Dad did for her that always
made me feel warm inside, so happy.
Every morning, Every morning....
My Daddy served my Momma coffee in bed.
She worked the evening shift at Randolph's restaurant
and he let her sleep in and always enjoy her cup of coffee in bed.
Sometimes she would get up and join him
but most often she layed in her bed and read while she
enjoyed her cup of brew.
Daddy always got us ready for school and it was
rare that she was out of bed before the bus passed
unless she was working the AM shift.
Today, being Valentine's Day I also
have memories of Dad always buying her a heart shaped
box filled with chocolates.
He didn't buy for us kids, only for the one he loved,
his wife, my Momma.
I believe that a deceased person lives on
as long as someone is speaking of them.
Have the conversations, tell the stories, write them down
and share with others.
I wish I had more of those conversations with my Momma
but she will live on for generations to come
because I have shared her here.
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