The Past Is Hard To Write about

For me, the past is so hard to write about, to search my mind for the events that took place so long ago.

I rightly think many times we have a mental block, to block out bad times that were in our past, to where we can get thru the present time better.

Thursday visiting my sister in the home, she is 62, I'm 58, her mind is fair at time, at other times its not very good at all, I asked Dixie if she had an image in her mind of what Betty Sue and Bobby Dean looked like. She said I can't remember their faces. I sure wish I had a face to go with them.

But thankfully I do have 4 or 5 pictures of my mother, one of her mother and father as well. I was so happy to get them, especially the one of mother.

I remember when I first visited my Uncle Lawrence Carter at Atkins, Arkansas. I would ask him questions about mother, he would try and answer them. Them all of sudden he said. Would you like to have a picture of your mother. Wow, what a moment that was, I had dreamed of finding out what mother looked like, but rightly thought that was something I would never know.

Of course I blurted out, "YES!" That was about all I could say at that moment.

His wife, my Aunt Dorothy went to find it, when she brought it back to me, all I could do for a few minutes was set looking at this picture of mother with tears coming from my eyes. For 50 something years I had dreamed of having a face to put on my mother, finally I had it, it was quite a moment in my life.

So many people fail to understand the emptiness in people such as I, or those who have been adopted out by their mothers, or for what ever reason separated from their parents at an early age.

There is an empty spot in us, for it is not natural not to have your mother and your father.

I had no idea I would think about that time I looked at that picture and for the first time would know the face of my mother.

I am going to go ahead an post this, but I may well come back and change it up just a bit, I can not go no further at this time.

But I want to end with this, it takes none of the love away that I have for the man and woman who raised me up and treated me only as one would treat their own child. They did give me a life, I thank God for them and the sacrifices they made for me.

May God Bless,
Jerry