78

Trey Smith

If my mother were still alive, she would have celebrated her 78th birthday this year. Alas, this was not in the cards for her. She died of cancer 20 years ago today.

As I've related before -- due to the weirdness of my memory banks -- I don't remember much about my mom. If not for photographs in my possession, I wouldn't be able to remember her face. I can't recall the sound of her voice. (Note: My brother has a recording of my mother speaking, but, in all honesty, the voice sounds foreign to me.)

I know I had a mother at one time and that I was very close to her, but I only seem to know this in a very clinical sense. I certainly can recall experiences in which my mother played a role, but she comes off as little more than a stick figure.

The strangest part of commemorating this date is that I get a very sentimental feeling for her without really knowing why.

I suppose there is no other reason than she was my mom -- the person who carried me around in her womb for 9 months. She was the person who took care of me as a disabled child. She was the person who sat up with me when I was sick and kissed my boos boos to make them better. She was the one who taught me about the birds and the bees and how to drive. She was my confidant.

She also was crazier than a loon! Late in life she became an alcoholic. She had odd psychotic outbursts and, when her mind became unhinged, there was almost no way to have a rational conversation with her. She was one of those people who always thought she was right and you were wrong. When she dug in her heels -- which happened far too often -- no amount of logic or evidence would sway her. My dad, brother and I certainly can attest to the fact that she could be one of the most annoying and self-righteous individuals in the history of humanity.

Like all the rest of us, my mom had her good side and her bad side. She had strengths and peccadilloes. She had amazing capabilities and astounding flaws. She could be your greatest protector or comforter; she could just as quickly be your worst nightmare!

I just wish I could see her face, hear her voice or feel her touch in my memories.