Good morning, I lost both of my parents within three years of each other. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t miss and think of them. We had daily conversations and they were the glue for all family and holiday gatherings. Every year my husband and I go out to dinner on my dad and mom’s birthday. My husband orders their favorite meal. My dad’s favorite meal was surf and turf. Which he jokingly called sea and sod. Always a glass of red wine. My mom loved ribs or chili verde with a margarita. I miss our conversations. I miss our holidays together. I miss knowing they are not here on earth. There is no love like a parent’s love. I am an orphan.
I love hearing about going to dinner on your parent's birthdays and ordering their favorite meals. What a lovely gesture! My sisters and I have been texting all day. Chips, salsa, and mango margaritas were my mom's favorite way to celebrate. So, we are each making that today to honor her. I am fortunate that my Dad is still with us. But, at 95, it is only a matter of time. The thought of losing him too is breaking my heart.
From my memoir, Turning Centuries: Isolated in the rural countryside, Father was our constant role model of what it meant to be a man. From an age too early to recall, I knew Father carried the weight of all those 343 acres on his shoulders alone. And with nothing but those two strong hands, tilled the fields, cut the hay, filled the haymow, filled the silo, all the while milking 50 cows twice a day, getting up at 4 for the morning milking, not sliding the barn door shut until 6 at night after the evening milking. Seven days a week, all the year long, year after year. All four boys knew what would happen to the farm should he falter for as little as a day or two.
The boundaries of our sense of right and wrong were contained by his anger. I must have been seven or so, because I remember being old enough to carry pails of milk. So that would put me out in the barn during night milking. The night a cow pinned him underneath her. Because she had a reputation for being a kicker, Father wrapped the hock chain around both her rear legs. If she kicked, she would knock herself down. Father squatted and leaned his head into her flank while he attached the four suction cups to her teats. She kicked. And went down, her weight pinning him underneath.
One moment he was down, crushed under her belly; the next, as a boy would remember it, he seemed to lift her off him with those strong hands. The familiar rage distorted his face. “Ken, go to the wagonhouse and get the sledge hammer.”
I knew his sense of justice was swift and absolute. It was never open to question by little boys. If a quivering lip gave away our terror, we’d hear, “Keep that up and I’ll give you something to cry about.”
I was shuffling along, dreading what would happen once I brought the eight-pound sledge to him. By chance, Mother was bringing the pail up to the barn for the house milk and she saw me with my head down.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. And when I told her, she told me to put the sledge hammer back. I stood there watching her head for the barn. I knew that once again she would have to take the brunt of his anger until the storm had passed. How often after her passing do I wish to tell her my appreciation for a mother's indominable love.
Oh, Ken, What a powerful story! It haunts me. Your mother sounds like an incredible woman. Thank you for sharing this passage. I didn't know you published your memoir. Feel free to add the link to Amazon for anyone else who may be interested in reading more.
I have always been a fan of your writing. Please keep sharing your stories here on my Substack. Thank you! xoxoxo
The heartache of losing my Dad five months ago at age 90 lives with me every day. While having recently lost some people who were hugely important in my life, losing my Dad has been a completely different level of loss… I truly can’t wrap my head around not having his love, warmth and words of peace and comfort available at a moments notice. The only comfort to offer is to have a friend to share in your sadness and loss… 💔
I feel exactly the same way about losing my Mom. I wrote this post because I hope that by sharing our memories, sadness, and pain, we can help each other. Thank you for telling me about your Dad.
Diane, thanks for sharing some of your many wonderful memories of your Mom. I am sorry for your loss. My Mom passed in early 2021 at 91 and my sisters and I miss her very much, think of and talk about her all the time. Those of us who have had extra special Moms are so grateful. I hope this Mother's Day is an opportunity to celebrate the many good days you shared.
Thank you, Jean. This one is rough. My Mom died last year four days before Mother's Day, so we were still numb with grief. This feels like the first one without her. My sisters and I spent all day yesterday, the anniversary of her passing, sharing stories and looking for signs she was there. I am so happy you have your sisters to share in the experience of losing your Mom. Thank you for commenting.
Your memories about your mom and your childhood really touched me. I remember her being our girl scout leader and being part of the PTA at our grade school. You were so blessed to have her as your mom as well as her being in your life so such a large part of your life. This was a very heartfelt topic very well written. (-:
Thanks, Reva. I was blessed. I still have trouble remembering that she is gone. I pick up the phone to call her all the time. My heart breaks all over again when I realize she isn't there. This is the hardest thing I have ever experienced. Thank you for caring.
I understand totally having lost both parents before they reached age 80!! I know you are so grateful for having your mom for a decade longer. Nothing replaces a parent. It left me felling lost and rudderless, a huge void. My precious dad died almost 30 yrs ago (9/14/97). My very emotionally stunted mom 27 yrs ago (3/5/97). It was my first yr in Taos. I was not there when either passed-that hurts to this day. My mom loved us as much as she could. The child of an 18 yr old mother and s horrible southern man who was not only a stereotypical overbearing chief of police of a small Alabama town, he was the chief of the local ku klux klan. Took my 10 yr old mom to a kkk rally. He physically abused his wife and son. My mom i don’t know for sure but she witnessed too much. He cheated openly on his wife and married “the other woman” 30 days after my grandmother died under mysterious circumstances in her kitchen. My mother let me believe he was dead until I was 16 years old.
Mama Peggy, as we all called her after grand kids arrived, was a mess. Pitifully needy, very angry, lashed out at unexpected moments except holidays and our many family gatherings when she always threw a fit. It hurts now. She was very critical of my law career. Blamed the demise of my 1st marriage on my decision of a career. And then there was the funny side! She loved to dance 30’s style. She left Alabama to marry a cowboy in Texas. (Boots yes, ranch no). Not allowed to work (she was a trained x-ray tech) bc in those days that meant your husband couldn’t support the family!! She was sweet to us in between meltdowns. She always welcomed all our friends anytime. That kept meltdowns at bay so there were always kids in our house! They all loved her. I loved that about her. Generous in buying clothes, gifts, and very much loved her 4 kids as much as she could in that shut down psyche she never escaped. After she died it hit me how much I never understood that impact of her childhood until she was gone. She only talked about it in pieces. You just didn’t talk about things like that “back then”. I miss her. I miss not having the kind of mother you describe- Your biggest supporter showering family with love and care. It explains so much about your loving nature! I grieve for the lost years when I did not have an understanding or the wisdom or grace to have loved my mom “as is, where is, just as she was”. She tried her best with what she could. There are good memories. I will write those down and remind myself to replace what I have let be in the forefront of my memories of her. I was fortunate she married a man the polar opposite of her dad. Thank you, Mom. I love you.
I am also posting a substack of the origins of mothers day. It was not intended to help hallmark and florists!!
Oh, wow! What a post. Your mom sounds like she was such a complicated woman. Thank you for sharing the good...and not-so-good. I am always struck by people's capacity to love. After everything your mom went through, she still "tried her best with what she could," and you were able to love her and find the good memories. Please let me know when you post your Substack about the origins of Mother's Day. And feel free to provide the link so we can all read the history of this holiday. Sending love to help you get through tomorrow. I have been so selfish my entire life in not acknowledging those who want to ignore MD. Those who have lost their moms. Mothers who have lost children. And people who are estranged from their mom. I will do better. I am holding everyone in my heart.
Good morning, I lost both of my parents within three years of each other. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t miss and think of them. We had daily conversations and they were the glue for all family and holiday gatherings. Every year my husband and I go out to dinner on my dad and mom’s birthday. My husband orders their favorite meal. My dad’s favorite meal was surf and turf. Which he jokingly called sea and sod. Always a glass of red wine. My mom loved ribs or chili verde with a margarita. I miss our conversations. I miss our holidays together. I miss knowing they are not here on earth. There is no love like a parent’s love. I am an orphan.
I love hearing about going to dinner on your parent's birthdays and ordering their favorite meals. What a lovely gesture! My sisters and I have been texting all day. Chips, salsa, and mango margaritas were my mom's favorite way to celebrate. So, we are each making that today to honor her. I am fortunate that my Dad is still with us. But, at 95, it is only a matter of time. The thought of losing him too is breaking my heart.
From my memoir, Turning Centuries: Isolated in the rural countryside, Father was our constant role model of what it meant to be a man. From an age too early to recall, I knew Father carried the weight of all those 343 acres on his shoulders alone. And with nothing but those two strong hands, tilled the fields, cut the hay, filled the haymow, filled the silo, all the while milking 50 cows twice a day, getting up at 4 for the morning milking, not sliding the barn door shut until 6 at night after the evening milking. Seven days a week, all the year long, year after year. All four boys knew what would happen to the farm should he falter for as little as a day or two.
The boundaries of our sense of right and wrong were contained by his anger. I must have been seven or so, because I remember being old enough to carry pails of milk. So that would put me out in the barn during night milking. The night a cow pinned him underneath her. Because she had a reputation for being a kicker, Father wrapped the hock chain around both her rear legs. If she kicked, she would knock herself down. Father squatted and leaned his head into her flank while he attached the four suction cups to her teats. She kicked. And went down, her weight pinning him underneath.
One moment he was down, crushed under her belly; the next, as a boy would remember it, he seemed to lift her off him with those strong hands. The familiar rage distorted his face. “Ken, go to the wagonhouse and get the sledge hammer.”
I knew his sense of justice was swift and absolute. It was never open to question by little boys. If a quivering lip gave away our terror, we’d hear, “Keep that up and I’ll give you something to cry about.”
I was shuffling along, dreading what would happen once I brought the eight-pound sledge to him. By chance, Mother was bringing the pail up to the barn for the house milk and she saw me with my head down.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. And when I told her, she told me to put the sledge hammer back. I stood there watching her head for the barn. I knew that once again she would have to take the brunt of his anger until the storm had passed. How often after her passing do I wish to tell her my appreciation for a mother's indominable love.
Oh, Ken, What a powerful story! It haunts me. Your mother sounds like an incredible woman. Thank you for sharing this passage. I didn't know you published your memoir. Feel free to add the link to Amazon for anyone else who may be interested in reading more.
I have always been a fan of your writing. Please keep sharing your stories here on my Substack. Thank you! xoxoxo
Thanks, Diane, for your kind words. ou can read the first chapter of TURNING CENTURIES: A 12-MILE-AN-HOUR VIEW OF LIFE AND LOVE HERE: https://www.amazon.com/Turning-Centuries-Bicycling-Ken-Youngblood/dp/B0C6W63L8N/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2WNVBDCDH19FU&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.0iQr4TQA9Z7HFkuXtzKhI8BIufiNvgx4XnXrkf5_HsXYmGdlhqFt0Ukk35mJCurQA3A9H5RJhHbwAwVHmweZ5_Tycs8jDFq7nfdst9zd97AINR6fiiLT8omOLZTKxgsi0U9-PBfKT2pHia6b00K-7IQkAzchN7lBOMW0FN1nF_Lw3rmo6EsS-4p9fDLGnSeyIZQB6mXryY5BI6E-XtGe7z5Omf3eBZRIDQv9-tPXTeo.Tx1a11JW5FTB6aY4MnzW09Kzq12qnDGt8CIPkQL-nI0&dib_tag=se&keywords=books+turning+centuries+youngblood&qid=1715474190&sprefix=%2Caps%2C95&sr=8-1
The heartache of losing my Dad five months ago at age 90 lives with me every day. While having recently lost some people who were hugely important in my life, losing my Dad has been a completely different level of loss… I truly can’t wrap my head around not having his love, warmth and words of peace and comfort available at a moments notice. The only comfort to offer is to have a friend to share in your sadness and loss… 💔
I feel exactly the same way about losing my Mom. I wrote this post because I hope that by sharing our memories, sadness, and pain, we can help each other. Thank you for telling me about your Dad.
Diane, thanks for sharing some of your many wonderful memories of your Mom. I am sorry for your loss. My Mom passed in early 2021 at 91 and my sisters and I miss her very much, think of and talk about her all the time. Those of us who have had extra special Moms are so grateful. I hope this Mother's Day is an opportunity to celebrate the many good days you shared.
Thank you, Jean. This one is rough. My Mom died last year four days before Mother's Day, so we were still numb with grief. This feels like the first one without her. My sisters and I spent all day yesterday, the anniversary of her passing, sharing stories and looking for signs she was there. I am so happy you have your sisters to share in the experience of losing your Mom. Thank you for commenting.
Looking at Connie's picture I keep on my bedside table. Miss her terribly. 👑👑👑
Oh James, Can you believe it has been a year today? I miss her every single day. So very much....
So love hearing stories about your mom, thank you for sharing her on this difficult day and weekend for you.❤️
Thank you. Sharing her stories is helping on this very tough day.
Your memories about your mom and your childhood really touched me. I remember her being our girl scout leader and being part of the PTA at our grade school. You were so blessed to have her as your mom as well as her being in your life so such a large part of your life. This was a very heartfelt topic very well written. (-:
Thanks, Reva. I was blessed. I still have trouble remembering that she is gone. I pick up the phone to call her all the time. My heart breaks all over again when I realize she isn't there. This is the hardest thing I have ever experienced. Thank you for caring.
I understand totally having lost both parents before they reached age 80!! I know you are so grateful for having your mom for a decade longer. Nothing replaces a parent. It left me felling lost and rudderless, a huge void. My precious dad died almost 30 yrs ago (9/14/97). My very emotionally stunted mom 27 yrs ago (3/5/97). It was my first yr in Taos. I was not there when either passed-that hurts to this day. My mom loved us as much as she could. The child of an 18 yr old mother and s horrible southern man who was not only a stereotypical overbearing chief of police of a small Alabama town, he was the chief of the local ku klux klan. Took my 10 yr old mom to a kkk rally. He physically abused his wife and son. My mom i don’t know for sure but she witnessed too much. He cheated openly on his wife and married “the other woman” 30 days after my grandmother died under mysterious circumstances in her kitchen. My mother let me believe he was dead until I was 16 years old.
Mama Peggy, as we all called her after grand kids arrived, was a mess. Pitifully needy, very angry, lashed out at unexpected moments except holidays and our many family gatherings when she always threw a fit. It hurts now. She was very critical of my law career. Blamed the demise of my 1st marriage on my decision of a career. And then there was the funny side! She loved to dance 30’s style. She left Alabama to marry a cowboy in Texas. (Boots yes, ranch no). Not allowed to work (she was a trained x-ray tech) bc in those days that meant your husband couldn’t support the family!! She was sweet to us in between meltdowns. She always welcomed all our friends anytime. That kept meltdowns at bay so there were always kids in our house! They all loved her. I loved that about her. Generous in buying clothes, gifts, and very much loved her 4 kids as much as she could in that shut down psyche she never escaped. After she died it hit me how much I never understood that impact of her childhood until she was gone. She only talked about it in pieces. You just didn’t talk about things like that “back then”. I miss her. I miss not having the kind of mother you describe- Your biggest supporter showering family with love and care. It explains so much about your loving nature! I grieve for the lost years when I did not have an understanding or the wisdom or grace to have loved my mom “as is, where is, just as she was”. She tried her best with what she could. There are good memories. I will write those down and remind myself to replace what I have let be in the forefront of my memories of her. I was fortunate she married a man the polar opposite of her dad. Thank you, Mom. I love you.
I am also posting a substack of the origins of mothers day. It was not intended to help hallmark and florists!!
Oh, wow! What a post. Your mom sounds like she was such a complicated woman. Thank you for sharing the good...and not-so-good. I am always struck by people's capacity to love. After everything your mom went through, she still "tried her best with what she could," and you were able to love her and find the good memories. Please let me know when you post your Substack about the origins of Mother's Day. And feel free to provide the link so we can all read the history of this holiday. Sending love to help you get through tomorrow. I have been so selfish my entire life in not acknowledging those who want to ignore MD. Those who have lost their moms. Mothers who have lost children. And people who are estranged from their mom. I will do better. I am holding everyone in my heart.