Mom's day is soon upon us
My Mom is an Angel looking down from above
Her pride despite the pain she showed us love Mom's one concern the day she found her Cancer terminal.
Not for her but for us, wanted my Stepdad baptized.
Trinity Reformed Church needed painting. This tiny man
as brave as any man I had known. Foreman of the project
that put on the railings of the Space Needle in Seattle. Not
a member of the Church he painted to Cross high above.
The Pastor having known and loved Mom and Dad came
to her death bed and baptized my Stepdad. Mom could rest
knowing he was safe with Jesus, crusty old man who walked
beams in tall buildings, Mom would be proud. As he neared a
hundred years old the foul language became, "Jesus loves
you"!, he was serving the Church as Mom smiled down
Mom was told her Cancer left her two weeks to live.
She told her Doctor to do what ever experimental work
that he could do to cure Cancer. Nothing he could do
would be worse than her abusive husband had done to her.
As a child I heard her screams, the broken nose
I begged Jesus to make me big enough to take him on.
Twice I did at eleven rode with Mom in an ambulance
in a coma first concussion thrown like a rag to the wall
I was sixteen years old the next time held a shotgun
I forever regret not laying the gun down
taking him down as the man I trained to be
Evil died in a house fire shoveling coal for the devil
The gun misloaded with rifle bullets
Mom was strong to the end. Doc gathered the family.
We lived on hope. She was only 54, and for the first time
in her tormented life had been happy. An orphan married to a abusing
alcoholic husband, controlled by fear my Step dad had enough.
A small man as size goes at 5 ft four a hundred forty pounds
He had once been my Father's best friend. Mutt and Jeff. My father,
I seldom saw him, only as a child was a giant. I have heard
six foot nine to six foot six. I was six ft three when I pulled the trigger
the gun was misloaded and did not fire. I was trained to fight
him man to man boxed underaged in smokers. My step dad was smarter
he held the gun to his head with the words, "You well not go near that
woman or her children or next time I pull the trigger." Mom and my
step dad were married nineteen years. We held a twentieth anniversary
early when she was diagnosed as dying early. The Doctor when he
gave us the word said with tears in his eyes. "I learned to love your
Mother as a friend. She offered her body for any experimental tests
no matter what the pain to her to cure Cancer." She was happy to have
some happy days with your Step dad. I loved them both. Doc's time frame
was right on to the two weeks he promised. We spent every waking
moment with Mom up until the day she died in my arms. I worked days
and went to the Hospital and slept in her room. My wife and Step dad
took the day shift. I wrote the next poem for her and left it on my desk
at work. Someone not sure who wrote my early poems in a ledger.
I found them one day in another's handwriting in the shadowed corners
of my attic. My step dad told me. "In high school before alcoholism your
dad and i double dated two girls we just met. I was instantly in love with
your Mother but she was claimed by your dad. I had to watch as he abused
her then one day I had enough." StepDad died age 101. With Mom today
Poem written in memory of Mom
Thousands of stars painting the sky;
Mere brushes for the moon above
Beauty in the sparkle of her eye
Never dimming passion of Eternal love!
God saith, "Forget as love unbourne!"
In your unmirrored heart this fool!
This Especial star whom you mourne;
Falling from the sky in dazzling hue.
For to my Earth I take in glowing Flame;
To let others take her loving space.
Thine eyes, thy motion, to hear thy name,
Forever in my heart the void no one can replace!
Writer's magazine published and gave me "A+"
Creative writing Central Washington State college
honored me with automatic "A" for poetry
Even before the poem dedicated to Mom
Actual first poem ever written by me later became
a Memorial the Angel always with me