The Plaque

I realize that my mother had a wounded inner child as well from unresolved grief from her father's early death.. I find it difficult to be angry with her based on that information. Though I recognize that it may be because I am only dealing with the sexual abuse by my brother at this point. It will be interesting to see if that changes when I begin to deal with the physical abuse that she inflicted.

It hurt when I found out she got "all the boys" a plaque, though only briefly. I see the hand of God in it, and based on her own admission, she did too. She felt she had to get all of us one, or stand accused of being partial. It wouldn't matter, they all see me that way anyway because she didn't leave me in Odessa with the rest of them when she left.

Once the conversation got to the point of the plaque, I began by asking her "Don't you know better than to make a grown man cry?" She said she didn't. I told her that it couldn't have come at a better time because I was dealing with some issues from my childhood. She didn't ask about the issues. I see that not as disinterest but as a standard dysfunctional denial mechanism. I told her that none of the others would respond to it in the same manner because it wouldn't mean the same thing, and she readily agreed.

To My Son, I Sometimes Wish

I sometimes wish you were still small,
Not yet so big and strong and tall.
For when I think of yesterday,
I close my eyes and see you play.

I often miss that little boy
Who pestered me to buy a toy,
Who filled my days with pure delight,
From early morn to late at night.

We watch our children change and grow
As seaons come, then quickly go.
But our God has a perfect plan
To shape a boy into a man.

Today, my son, I'm proud of you
For all the thoughtful things you do.
I'll love you till my days are done,
And I'm so grateful you're my son.
© Larry Howland

-b