|Me with Carlye Hughes (L) and mother Jackie Hughes (R)|
I've called Jackie "mother" for over 30 years. I'm the lucky one.
Regular readers of The Randy Report know there are a few posts that I share annually for special occasions.
This is one of them.
Happy Mother's Day wishes to all those fabulous, wonderful mothers who teach and nurture us all.
When I was young, people felt sad for me because my mother passed away at a young age. But the universe had another plan for me.
Because so many women were sent my way to teach, support and love on me to bring me to here. I think wisdom greater than mine knew it would all be more than ok.
This Mother's Day is my first without Jackie Hughes, who I called "Mother" for over 30 years. She passed last summer and nothing will ever be the same. But what she gave me and shaped in me lives on.
I loved the smile in Mother's voice. When she said my name it was musical and lilting. "Rannn-dy." She made me feel like I belonged. She was the center of the Hughes family. And we all knew it.
Memory: Mother was an expert shopper. EXPERT. She knew how to befriend all the ladies at Neiman Marcus so they would hide items she wanted until they went on serious sale. Double markdowns. Triple markdowns. Then she'd buy. And hide the dresses in the back of the closet for months.
When she'd finally wear them, Coach (Father Hughes was the winningest high school basketball coach in the history of the U.S. - once a coach, always a coach) might compliment her, asking if that was new. She'd reply - in perfect 'Texan' - "This? I've had it for months. But, thank you." Always followed by a warm secret smile.
I never shared Mother's passing last summer here on The Randy Report. I kept thinking I would, but nothing worthy came to mind.
Maybe, I'm still processing the loss. I don't know.
Mothers give a lot of themselves. And give up a lot. Mother Hughes certainly gave me more than she ever knew.
So thank you to all the mothers out there - the women who make up more of us than we'll ever understand.
“But there's a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother's story, because hers is where yours begin.”
― Mitch Albom, For One More Day
|My birth mother, Joyce Ann Slovacek, back in 1958. |
Yeah, you can see it, right...?