Hard Times can be written in so many different ways… and in as I have written on my ancestors and their hard times during the Civil War, WWII and even behind a plow… I’m writing this from my perspective of “Hard Times.”
As a child, you never think of hard times other than maybe when Mama won’t let you have that big gulp of Coca Cola that you’re pestering for or letting you go places where everyone else is going… and she decided you aren’t… or when the ice cream truck is coming, and Mama says No! When I look back now… those were all the best times… even when I missed out on that ice cream!
In raising my family, I never thought of hard times… just a struggle, but by hook or crook we managed. We survived, but still weren’t always able to buy what we wanted… instead buying what we needed… and often hearing from my father… “better tighten that belt” whenever I cried the blues. Mama was always a little lighter on me… always helping whenever she could… or thought I really needed. But many times, even when it wasn’t a necessity… just the want… she’d offer to buy… and it was never a loan, it was a gift. Was that because I was the only child… maybe? I do the same with my grown children today… it’s never a loan when something is needed… or sometimes just wanted. As a parent, you never stop wanting to help when needed. You know sometimes those wants… are still needed!
My hardest times as an adult… was in the losing of my parents… first my father in 1983… I wasn’t even 31 years old… but married with two small children who barely knew him… and today, have no memory of him. What the hardest for me, was… my father had just remarried six months before his death… which left me now… as an outsider at my father’s funeral. I attended his funeral in having no say on anything… taking a back seat to his new family. I knew in my heart it would not have been what he wanted for me… being his only child… but I stood there alone with my husband, grandparents and cousin. My mother didn’t attend, thinking it might have caused issues… and in as I made enough of a ruckus on my own, the two of us might have made matters even worse. I won’t go into all that happened on that day… but it was a day I’ll never forget.
It’s hard losing your parents… and in growing up, you never think about it until it’s almost upon you… and in the blink of an eye… or so it seems… it happens.
It was 47 years later (2020) when I lost my mom… suddenly making me self-dependent. Even though I’m married with two children, there’s an empty place inside you that now feels different. It’s a terrible feeling when you can’t call “home” again or see an incoming call saying “Mama.” I never deleted her number from my phone… I guess still hoping…
I was very close to my mother… talking daily every evening in hearing about her day… and all that had irked her at the senior center. We talked so often that I I began journaling our conversations as she often told me stories from years ago that I’d never heard. It became a joke on the phone… as she’d often ask… “Are you writing everything down that I’m saying?” Yes, Mama I am! I am thankful I journaled her words… as I can now read back and almost hear her voice… and sometimes realize I had forgotten those stories she told, but they can never be forgotten now… Thank You Mama!
If you are lucky enough to still have a parent… or parents… call them… ask questions… hear their stories. Don’t tell them “You already told me that.” Listen Again! I know more “Hard Times” are ahead… but I’m sure hoping they don’t come for many years.
Today was a Happy Day for me… it’s hubby’s birthday. Happy Birthday to the love of my life of 53 years… and wishing for many more!
Thanks for Reading… Jeanne
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© 2024, copyright Jeanne Bryan Insalaco; all rights reserved
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