The Voice in my Head

I was raised by an incredible southern mother. She wasn't the cliche southern mother. She was a balance of southern mannerisms and class that was recognizable in every region. 

I know I write a lot about my parents. Losing them has left such a void in me. This whole blogging process started to assist me in dealing with all of their health issues and now it helps me deal with the void. 

My mother was an amazing cook. One of my favorite things she made was corn bread. She tried to show me how she did it more than once. I never got it. But, hers will always be the standard I judge all other corn bread by. 

My dad was the voice of authority. My mom was the voice of reason. When something was going on I could call my dad and he would lay out how it needed to be handled. My mom would say,"How do you feel about that?"

Well, that's not all she would say. She could be very blunt.  When I called to let them know I was pregnant for the second time my dad was elated. My mom got on the phone and the first words out of her mouth were, "What did you do, screw up?" But since she named him and loved him beyond reason, it is safe to say she got over it. 

My mom would get "feelings" about things she didn't want us to do. My brother, who is the oldest, was hit with this first. And because something tragic happened during one of the times she had a "feeling" we were all reluctant to go against them. 

Last night I was talking to a friend about something they were going to have to do and I felt that clinching in my stomach. I asked them to be careful because I had a bad feeling. Of course, they reassured me all would be well and promised to let me know when they finished. 

Only they didn't. 

And, now they don't respond to my texts. 

Oh, something else about my mom. She had a habit of blowing things WAY out of proportion. 

Example: My sister hurt her arm years ago. My mom calls me and basically tells me my sister's arms (not arm) are useless and I need to get out there and help her! While my hysterical mom is explaining this my sister beeps in. I picture her in my head, being so brave, as my brother-in-law holds the phone to her ear, and I reassure her I am on my way to rescue her from her un-vacuumed carpet. I hang up and rush out there, distraught, wondering how my poor sister is going to cope. 

And, when I pull up she greets me at the door. Yeah, her ARM hurts, but she is moving it. 

So, I guess you see where I'm going here. My friend is probably busy or asleep because the task took all night. 

But, that voice in my head won't be silenced until I get the all clear. Peggy is in there and she is weaving all sorts of horrible outcomes. 

And if she were alive and I called her right now she would not reassure me. Oh, no. She would have me so worked up I would be leaving work and driving to their house. 

There was a fire in the woods at the end of our road when I was still on night shift. Somehow mama found out about it. I was dead asleep and the phone rang. I saw it was her so I thought I will call her when I get up since it was the middle of my night. 

We had one of those doorbells at that time that played all kinds of tunes. I was suddenly roused out of my sleep to "It's a Small World" playing over and over. 

I stumbled down the stairs and threw open the door to find my mom standing there. 

"You had better get up before your house burns down around you!!"

And with that statement she got in her car and drove off, leaving me to figure out what was going on. 

As a teenager she called me one day to tell me that a tornado had been spotted around the corner from our house and I needed to get in the closet. I slammed the phone down, grabbed my cat Tiger, and climbed in the hall closet. 

As soon as I shut the door, the phone started ringing. And ringing, and ringing. 

I finally left the safety of the closet and breathlessly yelled Hello into the insistent phone. 

It was mama. 

"Are you ok? You're not scared are you?"

"MOM! I was in the closet because of the tornado!!!" And I hung up and ran back to the safety of the closet. 

She also made me feel more loved than anyone ever has. And she believed in me. And she protected me because she knew how much losing her would affect me. 

She taught me the story of the Big Mouth  Frog. She dried my tears even when I was grown. The only times I ever saw her fighting mad was over her babies. 

And she still visits me in my dreams at night offering advise, showing her love, and reminding me why I was so incredibly blessed to have her as my mama. 

I sit here now, trying to tamp down the voice of doom, wishing I had never thought about her corn bread, and missing her with every fiber of my being.