ForeverMissed
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Why?What was my transgression?

December 2, 2017

Like so many children, I never felt loved by my Mother. She was never mean, but her withdrawal from me was more than I could stand. To be fair, I was born when she was 42 years old. She started having children when she was 18. I think she was worn out, but she seemed to find time for nieces and nephews, grandchildren, and even the neighborhood children. I was taught not to air your dirty laundry in public, but this is my memorial to my mother, and in order to "miss" her, I must explain my feelings towards her. 
  
One of my earliest memories was of  not feeling well,
in the early stages of a hard bout of scarlet fever. I really wanted my mother to cover me with a blanket on her lap and rock me. I brought the blanket to her family heirloom rocking chair. She was reading a magazine story, one of her favorite things to do. She said to me, "You are too big to sit on my lap to be rocked." That stung so much that I hid behind the big Morris chair(a leather reclining chair.) evidently passing out from the fever.  I was three when this incident happened.  When my brother Paul (age 11 )came home from school he discovered me on the floor. He washed my feverish face with cool water, held me in the rocking chair and rocked me while my Dad went to the Canfield house to use their phone to call our doctor, who hung a red quarantine sign on our front door. It was official, I had scarlet fever and was given penicillin shots for four or five days in a row.

Why my mother was so withdrawn from me was never explained (My older sister Juanita said she felt similar alienation, consequently marrying at age 16.). I wanted my mother's attention so badly. She did not attend my elementary school functions, to the point I quit telling her about what was going on. I always found a ride with a neighbor, and if I could not arrange it, I stayed home myself. It became my dream to escape as soon as I was through school.

Dear Mother, your hard life did not warrant your icy treatment towards me. I honestly tried so hard to please you.I strove to be a tomboy because I felt you like boys better than girls.I made an airplane out of an orange crate, flew it off the chicken coop, luckily into a manure pile, saving me broken bones. When you scolded me for making extra work for you (washing my long hair) I chopped it all off with the sheep shears.  I did well in school. I tried not to eat too much and become a burden on your limited budget.I tried not to complain about being cold in my raggedy thin clothes.  I know I had only one warm coat growing up ( a hand-me-down emerald green wool one,)  After that coat was hopelessly outgrown I wore a thick old sweater, then a navy peacoat hand-me-down from brother Jim. I remember purchasing a black wool coat with earned money at 14 years of age, from Faulkner's in Coldwater. I was so warm and so proud.. It was bought at an out-of-season discount of 75% off. You said it was a dress coat and was "too uppity" for me, but I absolutely loved it. It had a red satin lining. I wore it for four years, and you gave it away when I left home for Hawaii, paying a seamstress to shorten it for my much shorter older sister.

When I started 4th grade in the nearby town, instead of the little country school,(because of consolidation of rural schools into the larger town school) you told me to do what I had to for lunch or do without, because you did not have money for me to eat the hot lunch. (Help was available in the form of free lunch, but "we" did not accept free things from the government.) And so, my lunch ritual in the 4th Grade(age 9) became to run outside around the school building to keep occupied and warm, and then hide in the restroom until some children came out to play. On a good day, it would be someone's birthday and a treat would be served in the afternoon.Somedays my little child's  belly would growl and roll, embarrassing me. The mean, bitter teacher, Mrs. Bell  (your cousin)would tell me in front of the class how rude my "intestinal issues" were. Some days I felt I would faint from the hunger pangs and dizziness.Other days I hoped I would die to end the almost daily embarrassing moments.  


Only you, Mother. could answer these questions of why you did not wish to raise me. Instead, you chose to ignore telling me what I needed to know, the same as you chose to barely acknowledge me.What was the dark secret about me? Why was I always left out of everything? I never had a birthday cake growing up until my 12th birthday when my friend Karen's mother noticed I did not ever have a cake, party, etc and so, I was included in Karen's ( 4 days ahead of my birthday)  May celebrations. She also made me a beautiful princess-style dress before a big (to us) PTA show wherein our third-grade class square-danced. She said it was made for Karen, but too short. So she gave it to me. I was an ecstatic eight-year-old!. My mother did not attend the show, but I was truly a princess for one night! 


I felt I was a stray dog that was allowed to live at a house, so long as I did not make too much trouble.

Now that I am old, I wish I knew what the problem was. With age, I decided it probably was not my fault. What type of mischief or harm would a three-year-old do that would prevent a mother from loving her?     

              

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