Great Expectations

I was prepared to let the Obligatory Mothers Day post pass me by. My mother died in 1982, 6 years younger than I am now. It's been a long time. She gets all of the credit for what few saving graces I might have, and none of the blame for my many flaws and short comings. She did her best and raised 3 kids, 2 of whom turned out relatively normal and productive, and one who is still trying to figure it all out. Her name was Reba.

She battled cancer for 5 years, I never heard her complain, I never saw her quit, right up through the end she carried herself with a grace and courage I couldn't begin to emulate if placed in her position.

From day one she encouraged me to read. By the time I was 6, I must have had hundreds of little golden books. I remember 2 book shelves crammed full of them. She worked two jobs to provide for my brother, sister and I. When I fell far short of her expectations and my own potential, she loved me anyway.

I remember a letter she sent me when I was in the Missouri State training School for Boys, in Boonville Mo. Even though more than 30 years have passed, and that letter has long been lost, the content of it has stayed with me. She sent me a copy of Dickens Great Expectations. Inside the book was a letter. She told me that I could turn it around, that my time in Boonville was just a bump in the road. She told me that she had high hopes for me, great expectations. She closed as she always did, with much love.

Throughout the remainder of her short life, Reba never gave up on me. She always had high hopes for me, in spite of my best efforts to prove her wrong. There came a point when she must have known that it was out of her hands. She was wise enough to know that sometimes the people who need help the most, don't want it. So you love them and and hope in time they get it right. That's what she did, right up to the end.

So this ones for you Reba, it's been a long and bumpy road, but I think I'm finally turning it around.