Every year about this time...

I remember my childhood with my mother. Not that I don't think about her at other times, it's just that the 21st. of December of 1991 is the year she died.

I really don't think of her in a sad way. She made that possible for me by being strong all through her illness. She put up a good fight, but at the end it is as if she new it was time to let go.

What I remember about when I was a child with my mom, is her kindness towards others. I often tell the story of our 'town drunk' who could always count on a warm meal because of my mom. Yeah this guy called Tino an older Puertorican man lived on our block in a basement, he spent most of his time drinking. I don't know why. When he was sober he would sell snow cones. He had this large table where he would place a block of ice which he would scrape to make the ice cone. He had gallons of different flavored syrup that he would pour over the snow cone. They used to cost .05 cents but I did not have to pay for mine. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that my mother would save those aluminum tins that pies come in and she would make a plate of food and have me take it out to Tino. She would tell me how everyone had a right to have a good meal. I remember his favorite was white rice and red beans. Not a problem since my dad ate rice just about everyday. I used to get tired of it back then, but boy I could go for a plate of rice and beans right now.

He was not the only one though, my mom always made extra food cause she said you never know who could show up. And believe me someone always showed up.

My mom never went to school, but you would not know that by speaking with her or seeing her handy work. She would tackle any job. She had to be that way since her mom died when my mom was barely 18. and she was the oldest girl of 8 kids. Her and ther brother had to take over since their father, my grandfather, was blind. She learned to make dresses for little girls that she would then sell for food. She learned to read and write on her own.

The lessons she taught me you don't learn from books. Now that I am older I have come to appreciate that some of the lessons she taught me as a child would help me to deal with very difficult times in my adult life. When she was alive I could go to her with my problems, when she was no longer there I learned to gain strenght from my lessons as a child. This did not happen automatically, I missed my mom very much in the beginning. Yes, I still do miss her but in a different way. I would not want her to stay alive while being so sick just so I could have her around, that is greed not love.

I don;t know how many of the things in my life would have taken place as they have since my mother died, but I must be honest and say that I am glad she was not hear to see many of the things that have happened. Yes, she was strong, but we all have our breaking point. One thing I will say is that my mother will live forever in the hearts of those she touched while alive.