Mom...
On Friday, January 22, 2010, at 7:10 AM, PST, My mother, Grace Mary Potvin, left earth for parts unknown. According to one source, she left this life quietly, and peacefully. Although I was close by, I was not present at her moment of death. But I truly wish and hope that her departure was as stated by this source, "...left this life quietly, and peacefully..." I hope this is true, because for one thing, she deserved to go in such a manner, and for another, it would be such a contrast to how I witnessed her last few hours Thursday evening, struggling for every breath. It was difficult to watch, and how much worse to live that, I don't care to think.
So, Mom was special to so many people, and for so many reasons, but I will focus here on why she was special to me.
I really was a punk-ass kid growing up. A punk-ass kid when "Popeye" Doyle was still walking the beat. A punk-ass kid who just happened to be a natural when it came to music. Most, if not all of the kids I grew up with would consider being seen with their mother social-anthema. To do this would put you squarely in the untouchable category, with names like "Geek" and "Nerd" riding you all thru high school. And those terms meant something far less pleasant in the '70s than they do today. Yet, somehow, my Mom was different. She was, for myself and my sister Maria, (And I will guess, for my other siblings) as well as for all of my closest friends. something different. She was, dare I say it, even "cool". for us. This was a mother who attended every Sock-Hop, school dance, drama production, and every other event where I was performing. And I happen to know, since I was a heavy metal guitarist at the time, that she didn't come because she loved the music I was playing. She came because she was my mother and I was her son, and that's just how things worked. This was a mother that you would invite out to dinner or out to a movie with your friends, (Depending, of course, on the movie, and provided it wasn't a date)
My mother loved. Deeply, consistantly. It was something you knew, deep inside of you. And when you messed up, she was there wearing two hats: 1) She helped you clean the mess, or told you how. 2) She helped you to sort through the reasons the mess happened in the first place, and how not to repeat it. As much as a parent can possibly do so, and more than most, she allowed us (My friends, my sister and I) to learn consequences, but not to the point that it killed us: Enough, so that we got the point. She was concerned about our whole life, not just the present. And this never changed.
When it came to some of us bringing someone into the family through marriage, Mom never interfered, but always let the couple find their own way. From what I've observed of my friend's lives, not many mothers do this, but Mom had this down to an art. Whatever else I may say about my siblings, there are no divorces, and Mom never interfered, in any case.
I have been in some pretty ugly situations early in my music career, having at one point been stiffed for $30,000 and was basically kidnapped by force for my services.
Without going into the story, (After all, this is about Mom) it was Mom, with Dad's support, that brought me back from being almost a wild animal into the world of human beings again. I recall during that time that while other family members talked, (They would've never done that to me..etc.,) Mom, with Dad, acted.
I will never forget that. I was not easy to deal with at that time.
Another example of a mother's love that I remember vividly was when my sister Maria was killed tragically at age 36. Due to the injuries she sustained to her head and face, she was very difficult to look at. It was hard. Yet, I recall, as though it were yesterday, Mom going right up to Maria's face, and kissing her face, and saying to Maria, "I'm here, Maria. Mom's here"
My mother's face covered in the blood that was still pouring from Maria's face. Mom was indifferent to that. For Mom, all that mattered was that she be there for her child.
I learned what kind of a creature my mother was that day, and in the days ahead...
And, I have been reminded every day since, and in every "good" mother I have since encountered.
Is there a heaven? I certainly hope so, and if anyone should be let in, it's my mother.
Without going into all the details about her belief-system, and how she consistantly practiced it, I will only say this: If the Creator of this universe is all about love, than Mom is one of the mirrors in which HE sees himself.
I have many elderly friends who joke about being my mother, and I care for these people. But...I HAVE one mother, one Mom: Grace Mary Potvin.
So, Mom was special to so many people, and for so many reasons, but I will focus here on why she was special to me.
I really was a punk-ass kid growing up. A punk-ass kid when "Popeye" Doyle was still walking the beat. A punk-ass kid who just happened to be a natural when it came to music. Most, if not all of the kids I grew up with would consider being seen with their mother social-anthema. To do this would put you squarely in the untouchable category, with names like "Geek" and "Nerd" riding you all thru high school. And those terms meant something far less pleasant in the '70s than they do today. Yet, somehow, my Mom was different. She was, for myself and my sister Maria, (And I will guess, for my other siblings) as well as for all of my closest friends. something different. She was, dare I say it, even "cool". for us. This was a mother who attended every Sock-Hop, school dance, drama production, and every other event where I was performing. And I happen to know, since I was a heavy metal guitarist at the time, that she didn't come because she loved the music I was playing. She came because she was my mother and I was her son, and that's just how things worked. This was a mother that you would invite out to dinner or out to a movie with your friends, (Depending, of course, on the movie, and provided it wasn't a date)
My mother loved. Deeply, consistantly. It was something you knew, deep inside of you. And when you messed up, she was there wearing two hats: 1) She helped you clean the mess, or told you how. 2) She helped you to sort through the reasons the mess happened in the first place, and how not to repeat it. As much as a parent can possibly do so, and more than most, she allowed us (My friends, my sister and I) to learn consequences, but not to the point that it killed us: Enough, so that we got the point. She was concerned about our whole life, not just the present. And this never changed.
When it came to some of us bringing someone into the family through marriage, Mom never interfered, but always let the couple find their own way. From what I've observed of my friend's lives, not many mothers do this, but Mom had this down to an art. Whatever else I may say about my siblings, there are no divorces, and Mom never interfered, in any case.
I have been in some pretty ugly situations early in my music career, having at one point been stiffed for $30,000 and was basically kidnapped by force for my services.
Without going into the story, (After all, this is about Mom) it was Mom, with Dad's support, that brought me back from being almost a wild animal into the world of human beings again. I recall during that time that while other family members talked, (They would've never done that to me..etc.,) Mom, with Dad, acted.
I will never forget that. I was not easy to deal with at that time.
Another example of a mother's love that I remember vividly was when my sister Maria was killed tragically at age 36. Due to the injuries she sustained to her head and face, she was very difficult to look at. It was hard. Yet, I recall, as though it were yesterday, Mom going right up to Maria's face, and kissing her face, and saying to Maria, "I'm here, Maria. Mom's here"
My mother's face covered in the blood that was still pouring from Maria's face. Mom was indifferent to that. For Mom, all that mattered was that she be there for her child.
I learned what kind of a creature my mother was that day, and in the days ahead...
And, I have been reminded every day since, and in every "good" mother I have since encountered.
Is there a heaven? I certainly hope so, and if anyone should be let in, it's my mother.
Without going into all the details about her belief-system, and how she consistantly practiced it, I will only say this: If the Creator of this universe is all about love, than Mom is one of the mirrors in which HE sees himself.
I have many elderly friends who joke about being my mother, and I care for these people. But...I HAVE one mother, one Mom: Grace Mary Potvin.
posted by Fred at 4:39 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home