The “Why” For This Book …

March 19, 2019

Tomorrow will be the first day of spring, Thursday, March 20, 2019. It’s two-and-a-half weeks short of the first anniversary of my mother’s death. I’ve heard people say losing your mother is the most difficult death you face—with the exception of one of your children. That’s where I am at this moment. But there’s more to it than just the regret of all the unsaid things, and not being able to visit her. I wish I had asked more questions because that’s now a big regret.

I’m the only one left in my family who can remember as far back as I can. I’m the one who holds the stories of those relatives who raised me, influenced my childhood, and loved me as a child. I am now the oldest person left on this earth who remembers the same things I do in those early years before my cousins arrived. I had them all to myself—parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, and uncles.

In addition to the finality that my mother was really gone, I felt a weight settle on my shoulders.

There’s no one left to verify what I know from my early years. If I can’t remember it, there’s no one to remind me. I’m now the keeper of family history—at least that early history.

My mother was an interesting woman. She had some amazing qualities and some petty faults, not unlike the rest of humanity. Her influence, along with those of these now-gone relatives, shaped my life. There are many stories I could tell about my mother. I decided the ones which shaped her life and made her the person she became, should be told.

I arrived at conclusions about her by hearing her stories. It’s important to know what drives a person, what guides them through this lifetime. I’ve thought about her a lot this past year, and I think I might have stumbled upon some insights.

Perhaps you’ll realize some of the same things I did when you read her story.