With Mother's Day just around the corner, I pause to reflect and remember the women in my life who were my inspiration. My grandma Rose was my favorite grandma. She lived with us after we found out she had cancer. She and I watched General Hospital on my days off from school and she kept me up to date while I was in school. Gosh, imagine no DVRs or VCR's wayyy back then. Then there was my mother. Let me share with you why Pearlie Sue (my brother's nickname for her) was an amazing woman. Before it was chic, my mother worked full time. She knew that even though my dad tried, he was in and out of work often. So at 300lbs she went to work. She experienced prejudice due to her weight. She even lied about how old my brother and I were in order to get the job as bookkeeper.  In those days, employers would not hire women with small children in fear she would take off each time the child was home from school. My mother was a very special lady. She never wanted children. She often told my brother and I since she came from a family of four siblings, she was the second from the oldest. The other two younger siblings were seven and fourteen years her junior. As she would relay:  "Always a little brat running around." Her mother suffered from mental illness. Back then no one knew she had manic depression. My grandma was in and out of mental institutions. It reeked havoc on the family. My grandfather worked but gambled. Tie all this information together and it was a family of dysfunction, no different than most of our families today, just different circumstances.  Needless to say, my mother never felt secure nor did she want to impose that on her children. However, marrying my dad, they had three children. Their first daughter died at six weeks old. My brother was born and then I came along. I can honestly say, I had a great childhood. Not to say all was perfect. However, what is?  I have very fond memories of Pearlie Sue. She died in 1993 and it doesn't get easier. Some days are better. Some days my brother and I laugh and remember. Some days I cry, wishing I could call her and tell her all my news. I have to believe she is watching over us.

Our son doesn't remember the wonderful woman I called mom. My parents moved from New York to Florida in 1981 and we moved to Las Vegas in 1984. The few times they or she visited us, she was in a wheel chair. She always believed it would be her last trip and didn't really relate that well to children.  It saddens me greatly. How do share what is in my heart with my son? I don't have the answer. I hope when my husband and my time comes and we are no longer on this earth, that he will remember us with the respect and love I remember mine.

Mother's Day for me in the past was not a happy day. However, each year we try to do something to bring joy into the day. A few days ago we got some wonderful news. We are going to be grandparents again in November. This year's Mother's Day is rocking. Pearlie Sue and Arnold (my late father) are smiling down on us.

Happy Mother's Day.
Maxine