Thread by @fenrir_71

Well my mom died last night.

I had a complex relationship with my mother, who's name was Retha btw. She was a terrible angry drunk, and was drunk by 10AM daily.

I hated her and loved her. I crashed a car getting to her when I thought she was hurt once, yet haven't called her in years.
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She was a southern girl through and through. She dolled out advice both good and bad, as all parents do. About sex she told me "Do for her what you think would feel good," but about race it was "Don't bring a black girl home."
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I was a very free kid but no new holes in my body and only natural hair colors were her rules. She was a breakaway from a Southern Baptist household. Raised with INTENSE daily abuse.

When she hit college she acted like a preacher's daughter who was free at last.
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Retha was an early miniskirt girl, just like in some Austin Powers movie. She was tiny, 4'11", yet FIRE.

The crazy thing is Retha was the both the strongest & weakest human I've ever known. If she'd have been in a foxhole with me she'd have won the war...
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...but she couldn't face her own demons, nor the demons she created in my brother and I. Strength is an odd thing; it leaves us sometimes when we need it the most.

She blamed herself for my stepfather's years of abuse to her and I, rightfully or not.
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She couldn't understand how abuse had trapped her, and us. She refused to believe she was beat, literally I think sometimes. Hence the walking into doors I guess.
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Retha was both the smartest person I've ever known and the most ignorant sometimes. Her hometown had 500 people and she was beautiful, a queen of Gideon, MO.

"Where's my 'X' mom?"

"Right there Richard. If it was a snake it would have bit you."
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"I swear you'd lose your head if it wasn't screwed on son."

"Don't think I won't put a brick on your head to stop you growing."

I was half again taller than her. When we'd go to the mall when I was a kid she was so small and young looking folks though we were a couple.
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She didn't care that I played D&D, even while her mother would mail me Christian pamphlets and such telling me I was going to hell for practicing demonology.

I think she knew that sometimes I played recordings of myself practicing my sax instead of practicing...
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...but she never said anything if she did.

She loved gardens and gave me my green thumb, but those were the "I'm too young to know she's drunk" years or one of the few sober years. That shit melds together pretty well so I don't do plants very often, mixed feelings.
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I remember when we finally left my brother's dad, her 2nd husband, our terror, the strongman. We drove to MO from northern IL in her '69 Malibu, FAST. She prolly smoked 2 packs and cried the entire eight hours.

It's likely she saved our lives.
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Having been raised in the old time religions Retha was loathe to make us go to church. When I was very young northern church service was Xmas & Easter, then nothing.

SOUTHERN church service was twice on Sundays, Wednesdays and of course revivals and such.
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When Retha was young they were the richest family for ten counties in any direction. She'd tell me about friends she had only because she had a pool, or the town's only TV.

She kept that cynicism, saying "I smell bacon," when we'd see a cop on the road.
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Retha DID NOT GIVE A FUCK that it was -30 in the winter, if she picked cotton as a kid I could damn sure walk two miles to school. I had near or perfect school attendance every year until I turned 18, one day missed tops.

"Unless it's over 101, you can go to school."
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Retha made sure I respected women as much as men. Believe it or not even a falling down drunk can sometimes display great strength. She was a proud secretary, and damn good at it.

After she left Ray she spent untold hours at night learning shorthand, and how to type.
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She once thought my brother's bong slide was a "cocaine sucking tube," which is hilarious because when I was a kid I found a sack of 70s pill fun in our freezer yet she though a 16 years old would draw blow through a 1/3" tube.

Maybe they do now?
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When she found out we were just getting high though she was relieved, and dolled out some of the best advice I've ever gotten, which I'm happy to share with you now:

"Son weed gives you a bad case of the don't wannas."

Fucking brilliant.
18/

Speaking of my mom and weed we smoked together exactly once; at an Allman Brothers show I took her & her 3rd husband to in the 90s. Pretty cool moment on the lawn. She was anxious about it, and hid the joint in her cupped hands, old school style.
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Her hands cupped her cigarettes too, a vestige of the 50s/60s south she grew up in. I often think I understand why she lost her shit when she got off to college. It was 1970. 'Nuff said.

She was sad she missed Woodstock, though I'd wager there'd be no me had she made it.
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Last night was pretty cold for me, honestly I felt relief. A weight lifted.

This morning though is tougher. I'd say hence all the words above, and below, because I'm sure more is coming.

Memory can cascade upon us like a waterfall sometimes, powerful and insistent.
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Sometimes I marvel at how Retha could be so hung over, or often even still drunk, yet she'd be up making Ryan and I breakfast for school, cheerful as a 60s TV wife.

That's some shit to reckon with, lemme tell you. I once cleaned her off the front lawn in her undies.
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Nobody was a bigger booster of me than Retha though. She encouraged my curiosity and loved watching me play sax as a kid. Even showed up to shows before she fell off the wagon again.

The last 30 years though? More of a "IDGAF about anything or anyone but myself" vibe.
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I know plenty of you have lived a near version of my relationship with my mother with one or more (😬) of your parents, and frankly that fact helped ME process having drunk abusive parents.

It's not that folks had it worse than me as much as it is a community.
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An unspoken community usually, because at times it's just nice to know someone out there feels what you've felt.

Because Retha both did every bit of my laundry and literally left me in the cold forgetting to pick me up in the winter.
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Well I'm just babbling now, off on a tangent. Thanks for sitting with me as I laughed, and cried, and as always pondered.

We live forever in each others' memories. Hopefully I've done a complex and tragic human some justice today.

RIP mom, you deserve it.

Richard

Omg y'all I'm trying to answer, or at least like, all your comments. There's so many! So much love!

Thanks right now, everyone, for reading about my mother. She was a profoundly unhappy human but she would have been touched knowing so many people knew her story. Thanks again.❤