It's Been A Year

Last year at this time, my earth shook.. My buildings were reduced to rubble. My world was rendered ghostly and desolate. My parents died last year, days before my Birthday and Thanksgiving. Both of them. Within days of each other. My father was dying from the Cancer that was consuming him, my mother wore herself to death caring for him. She died first, of a brain aneurysm, in my living room while I was in my garage. She lie on that cold wooden floor for close to 20 minutes before I found her. The doctors told me she died instantly and simply fell where she stood. My father passed on 3 days later, and while he was not told my mother was gone (and in no condition to comprehend that either) I have the feeling he knew and just said goodbye to us to be with her.
[Part of me likes to think that she was there getting a room ready for him and he was simply waiting for the cable to get turned on so he could watch the Texas Rangers in the World Series.]

This showed me that I am not as strong as I like to think I am. I was an emotional wreck. This much is true. And if you want the honest answer to the "How are you doing?" question, I still haven't recovered. I doubt I ever will. But I don't think I am supposed to. Not fully at any rate. I relied on the kindness of my friends then. They were my rock. No. That isn't 100% right. They were my anchor as the storm rocked my puny little boat with it's Olympian Fury. I will never be able to repay that kindness.

I wanted to say something at my parents funeral. I wanted to use my words to find the right way to encapsulate my parent's legacy before the many people at the funeral service but I was unable. I still have trouble putting into print what is in my head where they are concerned. How do you eulogize the two people who meant everything to you?

They were good people.

That is it. In an nutshell, that was the core of my parents. No one met them and disliked them. They had their flaws, just like we all do, but at the bare minimalistic core of their beings, they were good people. I like to think I have that same quality, that on some genetic level I have simply been gifted from birth with decency. My friends who know me will all tell you I have, but I know better. Being decent is a daily challenge. And they won that challenge more than they lost.

I still miss them. Every day. I don't talk about them...especially with people who I have to see on a daily basis. The hardest part of dealing with this event has been my friends' concern. I see how they have taken on my suffering like a cross for themselves and THAT....that is the thing that still wrenches my heart.

I have a lot to do now. I decided on the day that I put them into the dirt on that clear, cold day, with a sky so blue it touched me, that I would make our name known. They would live on through me. That's not as creepy as it sounds. It's called a legacy and mine has been stunted. I have devoted the last 10 years of my life taking care of my parents. Now I will devote the remaining days I have left to making sure that the world knows my name. Through THAT, they will achieve something they never did in life. I will give them something to be look on with pride and say from wherever they are now "THAT is my Son. Look at him go."

Favorite All Time Mom Moment

We all have one. For some it's getting that perfect present for Christmas. For others it's having your first really bad boo boo taken care of.
For me, it's art related. I'm certain this comes as little shock to anyone.
I was going to Sunset High School and my art teacher had picked me as the best artist of my school to join similar artists at a DISD sponsored Artist Guild thingy. We met every wednesday at a park rec center and focused on ne aspect of art each time, broadening our scopes. It allowed us to meet like minded people and talk shop. I enjoyed the Hell out of it.

My Art Teacher (Mrs Woods) and I never saw eye to eye. Ever. To this DAY she is still the only art teacher to ever fail me. She saw me helping another student in class and hauled me to the hall for a 20 minute lecture on condecension. We just didn't like each other.

The finale of the Youth Artist's Guild was a gallery showing of our collected best work at City Hall with ALL of Dallas' dignitaries present. The Mayor, teh council, all the leading business people and various reporters and followers. It was a Who's Who of 1987 Dallas. I had submitted a fairly complex painting of a single cloud that garnered a lot of attention. I was not the best artist in this bunch by far. But my cloud painting took everyone off guard. They were expecting a bob when I gave them a weave. A LOT of folks gathered around my painting and were talking to me about it. The Mayor was asking me questions...one of Dallas' premier Black Artists, Arthello Beck was complimenting me on my use of some of the techniques that he taught me when it happened. Mrs Woods walked up to my mother, standing behind me beaming in the adoration of over 20 of Dallas' finest and said in her OUTSIDE Voice, "Mrs Wilbanks? Your Son Has A Potty Mouth!" This stunned everyone present except for mom. She looked at my teacher and laid into her with such...words fail me here. Leave it to say that afterwards, Mrs Woods need have no doubt where I got my Potty Mouth from, be it in this life or the next.

Never been prouder of my Mom.

Happy Mother's Day Mom.
--rog--