Once Upon a Time in My Life

Mom

She was born March 29, 1940 and she died January 31, 2009.

I was holding her hand when she died.

She was the first woman I ever loved and the one woman in my life who loved me no matter what. Not to say that we always saw eye to eye because we didn't, but I always respected her and my love for her never failed.

She was my mother;

Catherine Joyce.

She was called by her second name, Joyce.

She was married to my father, Bill, for 51 years and they loved each other to the day she died.

I will remember my mother for many things in her life, but the one thing that has always remained with me and will always remain, was her incredible sense of humor.

A sense of humor that she had no idea that she even had.

She was not an educated woman, but she had more common sense that anyone I have ever met and she could read a person in a matter of minutes.

The thing about it was, she was never wrong.

We always said that Mom had street smarts and that cannot be taught.

She was an amazing cook, a wonderful mother, a great friend and a loving caring person that would help anyone out as best she could.

She would canvas the neighborhood for donations for pretty much any cause that asked her.

She loved Nora Roberts.

She loved knitting.

She loved roses.

She made the best fruitcakes that the world has ever tasted.

Those I miss as much as her humor.

She loved white wine.

She loved playing darts.

She loved playing Scat and School. (card games)

She loved bowling.

She quit smoking at 50, but still died of lung cancer.

And the shit of it was;

the cancer was not caused by her smoking.

She got sick in August 2008.

She was diagnosed in October 2008.

She died January 31, 2009.

I held her right hand.

My Dad held her left.

My sister was rubbing her feet.

Some of the stories, in this collection, that I am about to share are a celebration of a woman who always smiled, even when it seemed she was making a fool of herself.

Believe me, she wasn't.

She brought more laughter and smiles to people's faces than anyone I have ever known.

Even at her own expense.

I don't want anyone to think even for a second that I am making fun at this woman, because I am not.

These are the little things that stay with people and keep their memories alive. They make you smile when you think of them and sometimes they bring a tear because you realize that the memories are all you will ever have.

There will be no more.

As she would always say,

"Billy, I know you are making fun at me. I don't care my son. At least you are leaving someone else alone."

I told you she was a smart woman.

Mom, I miss you.

I miss your smile.

I miss your laugh.

I miss the way you would slap me in the shoulder when I said something you thought was stupid, which, obviously, was often.

I will always Love you.

Billy