farmer's daughter

There is inside each of us some scared little kid who wants to control the world so as to feel safe and whatnot. Mine comes out on occasion to torment the hell out of my soul until I am forced to let it go and be what it is. My father has always been one to control, a trait that was picked up from a childhood of hard work and not much loving. His daddy was the meanest old goat I remember from that side of the fam. They sharecropped most of his young life, even the girls. It was a very harsh time for the little man, much like today. They had seen the collapse of Wall street and all the jumps that accompanied it. One of his sisters married a rich man who sold furniture and she was about the luckiest one money wise. They lived in this dream house in a fancy subdivision and had one kid so we piled up in there for holidays. I'm talking black marble bathroom fixtures ya'll..in the sixties!! Another sister was married to the police chief and the baby girl lived in Minnesota with her family. her husband died a few years ago from ALS, and Bud was gone long before that. The first funeral that I really remember attending and grasping the meaning of was that of rich uncle CH. He died early of heart disease leaving his fortune to a wife and son who went through the whole wad, just like in my maternal family. Lots of alcohol, drugs and high living will burn it like a wildfire. I remember sitting with her as she was on hospice for terminal cancer watching the birds on the deck and thinking about all the times that we had gathered as family there. She died peacefully at home with her family in attendance and that's the way BE likes it, I believe. My great grandmother Ethel Inez died in Gaga's house with several of us there. When it comes right down to it, you do what has to be done. The farm on which I have been privileged to grow up was bought with the riches of a St.Louis man who earned it selling rain gear during WWI. And it's still here all these years later. My mind wanders over every little crevice,creek,house and barn with almost 58 years of memories to reflect on. I never realized that it wasn't "just me" with daddy's fits until momma kindly explained to me that he had never been shown love like she got from her own father. He didn't know how to do something that was foreign...a gift never given to him. Something in me turned on a dime and embraced the fact that he loves me the best way he knows how, and is somewhat appreciative of my contributions to his schedule ;) The evil OCD demon has taken control of his mind, racing ahead constantly to choose the next thing. Never just "being." What torture it must be for both of them to be so limited. They have their memories, just like I have mine. Nothing will ever take them away, not even death. My daughter has shared in most of those, and for that I am eternally grateful. Big hugs and prayers back at everybody who's hanging with me through this. It shall pass, I know. Sometimes it's just the waiting that gets to you. ^j^