I Remember Mama

There is a story as to how I happen to be in possession of the rocking chair since there was more than one sibling. No one wanted it except my brother and me. The story is long! When my dad died, my mom sold her home and moved in with my brother. She did not want to be alone and he needed a baby sitter for his son. It was a win, win, situation for both of them. For a long time I had physical custody of his son, but now he was able to take him on his own. His ex wife had visiting privileges. My mother was his cook, laundry woman, housekeeper, gardener, and baby sitter all rolled into one. It was all right because she was very happy. She was where she wanted to be. As time went on though my brother became more controlling and dominating of her. I recall the time I was over visiting and she made the remark that she wanted to get rid of some things that were just gathering dust. In the washroom was hanging a fairly large picture of horses. My dad had made the frame for it and it was quite a nice picture. Hanging all over it were cobwebs and dust. She said, “I would like to get rid of that thing. It is all dusty and it is up so high I can’t get to it, and he never dusts, so it should go.” Of course I said if she were sure she did not want it anymore, I would be thrilled to have it. She said, “Take it!” I got a stool to climb on and was in the process of taking it down when my brother came in. He asked what I was doing and I told him. His eyes got big, his face screwed up, he pointed a finger and told me to put it back. He said nothing was leaving this house. There was a beautiful purple fruit bowl that stood on three short legs that my sister Barbra wanted, but he said she could not have it either. When mom got so she could not do the work anymore, and my brother was not a housekeeper, I would go to their home and bathe her, wash and set her hair and trim her toenails when needed. Barbra did it on a couple of occasions, but it was my weekly chore to be sure. I also cleaned the house for them. I usually did not touch his room, as he was fussy about anyone going in there, but on this one occasion I decide it needed a good cleaning. I was right! There was an inch of dust, I swear, and his dirty underwear had been pushed under the bed. I do not know how long they had been there or how often he changed, but I cleaned everything. I made sure I put things back exactly as he had placed them, but the room was clean. When he found out, he hit the roof. I did not do that again without asking. Now since he was the one taking care of her by having her in his home it was no more than right that he should have first choice of what he wanted when she was gone. However I think we girls should have been able to have some memento of hers. He did not think so. He would have it all and when she passed and when he was gone everything would go to his son since she had taken care and become very fond of him. There came a time when my mom injured herself and required professional care that none of us could give her. She was put into a rest home of sorts. She hated it! Her mind was still sharp and she was very unhappy. In a short while she was moved to a larger place with very sickly and demented people. This was so very devastating to her that I said when her body healed, I wanted to take her home with me. My older sister said no I could not do it, but I insisted and she agreed to let me try it. She would have preferred to go to my brother’s home, but that was not possible. Mom came to my house to live out her final days.
Continued.