In Case You've Wondered

My blog is where my wandering thoughts are interspersed with stuff I made up. So, if while reading you find yourself confused about the context, don't feel alone. I get confused, too.

If you're here for the stories, I started another blog:

One other thing: sometimes I write words you refuse to use in front of children, or polite company, unless you have a flat tire, or hit your thumb with a hammer.

I don't use them to offend; I use them to embellish.

Saturday, August 30, 2014

I Wonder Sometimes

I was born on an August day. My mother died two days shy of my third month. While I had a loving step-mother that raised me from a child, I still wonder about my mother.

I know she was short. I was told she was about 5 feet tall; tiny was the description of someone that knew her. She was blonde, with blue eyes,and my father adored her. I know that from what I was told by others; my father never talked about her; I think the pain lasted until he passed.

Still, I wonder about her. What was her favorite color? Did she like chocolate cake? Would her smile have healed my broken heart, when life was disappointing? Could I have met her expectations and made her proud?

I wonder most about the end. Melanoma had ravaged; her last days were known to be coming; and the sadness in her heart must have been so deep as to be unbearable.

My father was there until the end. How he survived is beyond me. I don't know if I could have been that strong. Losing the love of your life at such an early age can only be an event that destroys something forever. His perseverance was exceptional and I admire my father more, when I reflect on legacy.

So, I wonder about the person that only brought me to this world; soon to leave for another purpose. The person, and the purpose will never be revealed while I walk the Earth. Time will eventually bring me to the place where I will have the answers. Until then, I can only wait and wonder.


  1. The not knowing makes anything harder to live with. Especially when the ones who know are unable to talk about her. I just have this feeling, Jess, that she would have been mighty proud of her son.

    1. That's a very kind thing to write. Thank you.

  2. Some day Jess you will have all the answers. I look forward to that time for myself.. until then we can rely on "The Man Upstairs" to heal our aching hearts. Hang in and keep writing...

    1. I don't think your heart ever really mends completely. That's for those that wait and prepare our way.

  3. I knew my mom better than I've known almost anyone, and she is still a mystery. I think I'd prefer it that way, not have to know about any foibles, and just let her go on being the one I know. As I wish she had known me.
    And I think I just scrambled that whole thing there grammatically, like a word omlet.
    It's early yet.
    Be all that as it may, I agree with Vicki on the salient point- your mom would be proud of you.

    1. Well, now I'm embarrassed again, looking down, and scuffing the dirt with my feet.