The Best Part of Me

There is not enough time in my life to write about the person who had the greatest influence in my life. As I write this paper, it’s as if my entire life is flashing in front of my face. I feel I’m frozen in time: scenes of my fondest memories of my mother playing in my mind but in slow motion. I see her vividly she is walking by swiftly in her rose colored house dress, brown slightly worn shoes, the aroma of Maxwell house coffee perking, and the scent of crispy bacon sizzling in the skillet, all reminding me of those early morning winter days in Ohio, bitter cold but warm at the same time surrounded in so much love. My mother, “Mamma,” was not only a great parent to my siblings and me but her parenting reached far beyond her children. She was a mother figure and a listening ear to many of my friends but one in particular who did not share the loving, caring and wonderful bond I shared with my mother. I remember a particular time in my best friend, Jackie’s life when she was 15 years old, who could not talk to her mother about a very difficult situation that occurred in her life. Her mother was a self absorbed, unhappy woman, who was more attentive and obsessed with her husband’s indiscretions. She consumed all her time and energy in trying to figure out what was going wrong in her marriage than to hear the cries and frustration, the deep dark place her daughter was in and had no guidance to find her way out. In the midst of Jackie’s most complicated problem during this time in her life, she came to my mother and shared her most horrific pain and sorrows. I remember my mother taking Jackie’s hand, looking in her eyes, and listening to every word she uttered. There was so much pain and shame as she Jackie spoke from the depths of her heart in spelling out all the darkness she had experienced. My mother caressed Jackie as she cried in despair. During that intense moment, I saw my mother give her the same unwavering support and love she had so often given me. Jackie often speaks about the moment of “breakthrough” for her and how my mother at that very moment gave to her the missing part of connect her mother was unable to give. Jackie has spoke very openly on many occasions about how she has patterned her love and respect for her children that my mother gave to her. Today, Jackie has 6 children and 4 grandchildren and said it was my mother’s love, support and listening ear that made her be the mother she is to her children. My mother was very protective she did not allow me to walk uptown with my friends, and when she did she would walk along side me and make sure I looked both ways before crossing the street. She was very cautious and very selective of whom my friend’s were, and anyone she was not comfortable with, I could pretty much not be around. I’m not sure if she was this way because I was the youngest of 4 children or because my parents were near 40 years old when I was born. There is a 10 year gap between my oldest brother and me. I grew up with my brother’s oldest son and oldest daughter. They were more like my siblings than my nephew and my niece. My mother was not a domineering person; she was just protective, concerned and worried about us. Her presence in my life was very strong and very real.
I can remember a time when I was in high school. I attended vocational school my junior and senior year. I had some very fun loving, crazy, risky friends okay, and we were in high school, the height of jumping into the “real world”. I can remember coming to school on Monday mornings and listening to all the stuff Tammy, Jennifer and Debbie would tell Phyllis and me that they did over the weekend, hanging out with their boyfriends, sneaking off to a quiet spot, laying back in Todd’s 1975 brown Mustang making out, smoking, drinking, coping a slight buzz off a joint, and all the wild sex they were having. Phyllis and I looked in amazement saying to one another, “Wow, I wonder what it’s like to just do something spontaneously”. I wanted sometime to be one of the ones that could live on the edge and do something crazy, out of the norm, for the most part I was a sideliner. The biggest reason is for the most part I always had a conscience that would eat me alive WHY!!! My mother was my first thought that popped into my head, how my parents raised me, what I wanted to do, and what they expected from me was front line and center.

My mother was my best friend, my biggest advocate as long as I can remember she was a constant, but gradually as I grew into a young woman, I could feel the grip of her protectiveness loosening and allowing me to make my own choice’s in my life as I had the endurance and strength I had gained from her love to trust me as I had always trusted her. As she and I went through this transition together she came to trust my judgment. It was not that she did not trust my choices, she had to learn how to let go. She was not always receptive of some of the decisions or choices I made, even those that hurt me deeply. She was never a mother to say, “I told you so,” but always stood with me through the ups and downs, the triumphs, the trials and the tribulations that followed. She was a pillow to lay my head in the worst of times and my cheerleader in the best.
With that said, I can reflect on a time in my life when I was 21. I had met a man who was 12 years my senior one night when my best friend and I were at a nightclub. I think of the night many years later as I was going back in time sorting through being young, carefree, and sometime foolish notion, I thought I was in love. It was a crispy, wintery, November evening around 9 pm in Cincinnati, Ohio. My best friend Jackie and I were out cruising in her 1982 Monte Carlo when we decided to hit the hottest new club in the city, Spectrum’s. Oh, we had heard plenty, nice layout, great location and lots of fun. I had been in the club for an hour or so, getting up to walk away from the man who plastered his but at a seat at my table, praying by the time I got back he would be far gone. I did not know this man. He had asked me to dance, so I accepted. I guess he thought this meant we were together. Annoyed with his hubbering over me, I excused myself from my seat and walked up to the bar to order a Dr. Pepper. As I made contact with the bartender, I heard a gruff but soothing voice to the left of me say, “Good evening, “ as he was sipping on a nice glass of Hennessey, “Please take my seat!” I responded and said, “Oh, thanks, but no thanks.” I’ve ordered a Dr. Pepper and am waiting for the bartender to get my drink. He insisted on my sitting down with him, giving up his seat. At that very moment our eyes intersected as we flirtatiously stroked one another up and down with our eyes, him looking and smiling, me looking away in shyness. As I looked from the corner of my eye. I could feel the mint of his breath on my neck. I could smell the alluring scent of his cologne strolling through my nostrils; well dressed, nice short hair, great shoes, WOW!!!! This man looks like something out of a GQ magazine! We were so engrossed in conversation; I never left the bar. Time seem to pass by so fast before I knew it we heard the DJ saying it’s 2:00, last call for alcohol. The club would be closing in a half an hour. All of a sudden, I heard someone out in the crowd frantically calling my name. It was Jackie she said, “I’ve been looking over an hour trying to find you.” Here I sit, engaged in two conversations; my girlfriend and this sweet smelling man. My head bobbing back and forth left to right. Jackie still rambling on why I didn’t come back to my seat and Mr. Wonderful clears his voice and ask, “Do you have a name and a telephone number. I would love to call you if it’s okay,” Grasping for words trying to get my open mouth off the floor, I said, “Yes, my name is Cullen”. At that very moment, I broke the speed of lighting trying to find a pen in my purse to get this information to him. He said, “My name is Justin”. Justin and I exchanged numbers. The whirlwind love story of the century was about to begin. So I thought.

The next day I went to my mother and told her of the man I had met the night before. Telling her captivated I was by his intellect and his charisma. I told her how we met at the bar and how he gave up his seat and we talked for hours from one thing to another. Not talking but talking, looking into each other’s eyes with shyness and full of hopeful. My mind was racing thinking about all kinds of things I couldn’t tell my mother but she already knew. My mother of course; was not thrilled of this encounter, meeting a man at a bar, him being 12 years older than me. She was concerned of the age difference, maturity level, and life experiences this man had already lived while my life was just beginning. He had already been married and divorced. I had not yet experienced any of this. Several weeks had gone by; Justin and me were talking every day, sometimes two to three times a day. Justin took me to the finest restaurants, outdoor plays, concerts in the park, and we danced under the stars on top of his apartment building. . We were inseparable. I was having the time of my life. Only he had not yet met my mother. She was asking me when I going to bring him to the house for her to meet. My first thought was this is going to be an extremely uncomfortable situation. I knew my mother would be very nice and would not be disrespectful to him or say anything that would embarrass me, but at the same time I knew she would be watching his every move. As time passed, my mother accepted our relationship and was grateful her fears were not reality. The next two years of my life with Justin were at that time; the most beautiful and yet chaotic. My mother saw me at my peaks and some of the lowest points in my life. Eventually Justin and me departed ways; my mother’s love and support keep me grounded. She was my rock and my comforter. Today fondly looking back to all that my mother taught me, and what I’ve passed on from my mother to my children; my mother had a great love for family and for giving. She gave of herself with such compassion. She was a great parent, mother and grandmother. Today I pass on to my children the same legacy. Love, strength, and family she gave to me. Often my children tell me that I too am protective of them. Having raised 4 young men, my children are the best part of me. The best of me to give to my children is to allow them to make their own choices and learn from their mistakes; so they may learn and grow. To be their pillow when life hits them hard and they need a soft spot to lay, and be their biggest cheerleader when things are the best; but, they will know as I knew from my mother I will be there in the ups, downs and in between.