MARCH 28, 2025: “What She Was Made For” …

Yes, God does know how many infinite amounts of tears I’ve cried for my mother over the years. To begin, my mother did not … and I repeat – DID NOT have a “childhood”. Rather, she had a “mother’s” responsibilities of helping raise her seven siblings while my grandmother was literally “working on the railroad all her live long days”. Alongside my great grandmother and namesake, Catherine, she became the third parent and “second adult” during that precious time in her life when most other girls her age were running around outside playing hopscotch and riding their bikes.

Keep in mind that my mother never really had the luxury of falling apart or grieving the psychological and emotional trauma from her biological father’s absence via abandonment, which even to this day she refuses to acknowledge. And besides, even if she had attempted to “deal” with all the cards that weren’t “handed”, but rather, THROWN at her, who would have even noticed anyway? In the less than 1,000 square foot shanty of a home she was raised in and made the reluctant but willing domestic goddess of, chock FULL of not just her one older and six younger siblings, but an alcoholic and mostly abusive stepfather, ailing grandmother, and mother (when she wasn’t working on the railroad) there was neither the time, energy, or space for anyone to see or catch her if she’d either dropped or attempted to lay down a single one of her burdens. Now, here I am many decades of her all but forced motherhood later having to watch her as a grown and beautiful woman who not only doesn’t know how but refuses to ask for help with anything from anything. She only knows how to keep giving until there is nothing left. So, yes, IT’S HARD TO WATCH!

Meanwhile, if any woman in the history of humanity ever deserved to be treasured, cherished, adored, pampered, and placed high atop a pedestal by her HUSBAND … it was her, my beautiful Mother. Instead, she’s spending what’s left of what were meant to be her “Golden Years” locked away in a very beautiful yet abhorrent prison like Cinderella. She was his very first prize! His first conquest! THE purest trophy of all trophies!

The “empire” he’s so disgustingly proud to brag about “building on his own” would never have seen the light of day without her as a loyal grunt by his side. My mother … the true, rightful, and selfless QUEEN of this family was his first missed opportunity to show truly kind, patient, and unconditional love into the one person on the face of this planet who has ever faithfully loved him despite himself, which PS, is saying A LOT! Instead, she’ll be spending her birthday today in the prison he built for ALL of us but that I was able to escape.

Don’t get me wrong, though. She is, indeed “treasured, cherished, adored, pampered, and placed high atop a pedestal” to the best of mine, my sister’s, and all four of her grandchildren’s ability – BUT – the love we try pouring back into her cup that she’s so selflessly always pouring into ours should have only ever been the SPRINKLES on a cake that HE should have decorated for her … NOT the entire bowl of frosting!

It is what it is, I suppose. She accepted her fate a long, long time ago, opting instead to let it make her physiologically ill at the core of her bones, joints, and nervous system, as is the plight for most autoimmune diseases (which I personally believe are somehow related to the internalized pain, anger, and suffering that are all too often masked with a beautiful smile).

So, as for now we’ll just continue to do the best we can to make sure she rides off to The Brighter Side knowing that she was seen, heard, and appreciated for everything she has given to this family, often to her own demise.