Mom

Sunday, a day of rest. A day to remember my Mom. I remember the good times, I remember the bad times. My life could have profoundly changed because of some decisions that could have been made. I have been blessed. Shortly after I was born I was nearly killed by an errant shot by a hunter as the bullet passed thorough a window at our home and grazed my forehead.  I have no memory of this but what I know is what was told to me by my mother.  For my early years I spent a lot of time without my father. He went to trade school under the G.I. Bill at Coyne Electrical School in Chicago. I, and my Mom lived with what little money he sent home and with family. We first live with my grandparents but when that became impossible we moved to an apartment. Later, life became more normal. I can thank my Mom for teaching me an appreciation of nature and the outdoors. It was her that taught me to fish, to love hiking, and to explore. She was what inspired the gypsy in me. That spirit lives today. She was always there for me, be it to scold or to provide that hug. She was at my side through all my battles, she was the one that told the doctors not to pull the plug after I was in a coma for a week and showing no brain activity. I'm here because of her belief in me. Sure, there were times when she was angry at me, probably because I disappointed her. She was probably right. I have made mistakes in life. I have survived. The last few months of her life roles were reversed. I was the one caring for a helpless soul, who knew that life was ending and was trying to figure out a way to end. I held her in her last moments, and was there when she passed on. Thank you Mom. You still mean the world to me. I wish there was a better way, but I did my best. Love you Mom.