MEMORIES

My sweet niece chastised me Sunday at church for not updating my blog a few days last week. She asked that I write some more memories of Momma and Daddy (as she reminded me that it was all about her) I explained to her that it was not always easy to write about those memories and she again reminded me that it was "about her needs not mine". So here is one short memory that I carry with me always.

Daddy, in my early memory, treated Momma like a priceless Porcelain Doll. Strangely enough, Daddy had a very similar personality to BC. They never meet a stranger and everyone loves them. They are people lovers and have a deep need to be out among the throngs, quite the contrast to Momma. Placed on a throne since the day of her birth and certainly following losing her Mother at two, Momma had been taught that ladies were quiet, graceful, sweet and charming. She was accustomed to being the center of attention by just whisking into the room. A tiny and petite black haired beauty, she was used to the heads turning and the desire of all to please her. She was a force unto herself.

Daddy was a long legged wiry man with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes almost all of the time in my early memory. During those early years, he quite literally was "My Sweet Daddy". I begged to go with him whenever he left for his daily coffee runs. I wanted nothing more than to be with him and enjoy the glow of his presence. Those trips to The Coffee Shop were my time to bask in his love. When Momma was in the room or in our presence, all of the attention turned to her and I was a slight shadow in the periphery. My one chance to have his eyes upon me came with those innocent trips "To Town".

I am sure I desired what Momma seemed to have. A man that seemed to adore her. I can see in my deep sub-conscious them dancing. Him tenderly holding this wisp of a woman as they glided on the dance floor. I remember seeing him kissing her with a tenderness that would take your breathe away. I remember his sweet care for her as he put her on that pedestal that she so desired. It was so beautiful and tender and a memory that can cause me to feel as if my heart is in a vise's grip.

During the last year's of Daddy's life, the magic disappeared. Momma's Knight was ill with alcoholism. It was a difficult-heart wrenching time in all of our lives. I remember sitting in the chair-perfectly still-without a sound for what seemed hours as Momma tried to take care of Daddy. Her desire in life was to be taken care of and her life had turned inside out and she was now the caretaker. Those memories are hard-painful-heart wrenching.

I do not know if Momma ever forgave Daddy for "Leaving Her." During the last year of his life, he was once again a recovering alcoholic-but the damage had been done. I do not ever remember seeing him hold her or dance with her or cover her with his tender love like that again. The magic, that had been, died long before Daddy's earthly body died. It was discovered right after Christmas that Daddy had lung cancer. Within two months, he left for good. The only thing that was left was the memories. The bad memories covered the good memories in Momma's mind and it was a long-slow-lonely climb from the depth of the hole left. Camelot was gone and all that is left is my memory of those days and what could have always been-a sad sad ending to a true life story.