Me being one of four surviving siblings, we speak of our memories of our mother, and she is refreshed in our minds on a daily basis. She is so often remembered and referred to that we have honorarily canonized her and often make reference to her as “St. Gwen”.

“St. Gwen”… certainly a title of jest, but the fact is our mother was someone of special standing in our world and continues to frame our lives and so many of the lives of the people who knew her.

Mom was strong in so many ways. Her strength of knowledge and faith, her problem solving and her mechanical abilities all showed her strength. She was resilient and a visionary. One thing that mom was not… she was not an “always happy” person like many may have known her to be. Mom did have her burdens; but along with her burdens she had her ever present hope and her priorities were in order. Always rebounding from the pressures and the loads she bore, she continue to press on.

Mom and dad loved each other I am sure. But they could not make their marriage work. We as a family experience a tumultuous separation and subsequent divorce scenario that was often heated. During these times the love that I am sure they had for each other was not apparent and in fact was played out as relatively violent and seemingly unloving situation that continued for many years, even after the divorce.

As children, at least as the child that I was, it was not possible for me to see or to understand all of what was going on and my framework undoubtedly took the perspective of dad not loving mom and us kids. Mom knew that we needed to be guided to the understanding that what was playing out between she and dad was not indicative of dad not loving us.

The lack of clearly defined and discernible shows of love from our father and the occasions of violence that we witnessed and felt the impact of, was easy to lay at the feet of dad. Although mom may have had a part in driving dads attitude, without a doubt it appeared that dad aggressor, and a firm dislike, even a righteous hate developed in me towards my dad.

My brothers and sister may describe it differently but I think that they would agree that we resented and disliked our father during these times. But never and unkind word did we ever hear mom utter, ever.

This volatile period lasted for and number of years to include years after the legal separation and divorce and throughout it all, mom would individually and collectively tell us “your father loves you, the issues that your father and I have are not about you.”

When they separated, and to honor dad… the fact was that he was never far from us. I began to see and learn that others in my life had broken homes. Some of these friends never saw or heard from their fathers and some where dealing with other men in their mothers lives; we never had to. I have memories of dads visitation and outings with him. Some good and some bad. As we grew older though, we had little desire to be with him.

Dad would come for a visit or to pick us up for the day or weekend and there began to be no pleasure in it. We would try to get out of going and later became effective at eluding his attempts to see us but, mom’s always kind words would touch our ears. She would tell us again to see our father and that he loves us. She was always right, dad always did love us and he still does. He just seemed unable to keep things separate or to effectively deal with or cope with issues. A problem that is still true today.

But mom knew that her happiness was directly attached, …in lock-step with others around her. She seemed to manage her living to encompass the lives of others. She knew love to include the mistakes that people made and the hurt and harm that is often associated with life. She new time to be a critical ingredient to truth, healing and happiness. She applied these precepts across the board, and it certainly was applied concerning our father.

As a mother, she was extremely devoted. With whatever she had, she would use it to entertain and to teach lessons to us. Mom was a living classroom for us. Through her I learned how to laugh and how to cry and that both had its place in our lives, both serve a purpose.

My brother Ted recalled that mom’s iambic pentameter readily kicked in when he when he had a Shakespearian school assignment. Every conversation would be flavored to aid in his learning. Mom was great with helping to bridge the gap of the unfamiliar, preparing and comforting us through transitions of all kids.

Mom could Laugh!

Our mother yearned for a good story or quick humorous opportunities to see a funny side to situation. She could throw as snowball… or baseball or football for that matter! I remember arriving home from school one winter afternoon. Maybe I was in the third or fourth grade. Ted being a years older, we walked home together, sometimes with our little sister in tow. On this certain day we had a good snow and as we approached the side door of our house we were met with a bombardment of snowballs at the hands of mom.

We took shelter and made snowballs to through snow back at her. She’d pop us good and encourage us. After a while we’d be in the house with hot cocoa and laughing.

When she would have a good laugh, she would turn red and nearly hid her freckles. Her smile could take you to another place. Mom’s smile and her simplicity were an awesome combination. She did not have much, but you would rarely know that she was driven by want for herself. In fact I have memories of her doing without things that are regarded as basics. Mom’s goals had been to care for others first and then take care of herself.

Although there were many things that we did without, we were loved and we certainly learned critical things that have kept us, even unto today.

-Lamont