“Bye mom
That's what I said at five years old the first day of school
Already then I thought I was way too cool
I thought I had it figured out
And I didn't know a thing
Bye mom
Don't worry 'bout me, I'll see you at three at the bus stop
And I know that you'll be right there to pick me up
In the old truck.”
There’s a level of innocence when you’re young, and a belief that all will stay the same as you grow up. Every morning was a routine...waking up, rubbing my eyes, and then off to the kitchen to see what awaits. For me, it was usually some sugary cereal. Not because my Mom didn’t prepare something, I went for the toys and other insignificant items that hid inside the cereal box. I should have had eggs like she suggested.
My Mom took very good care of her family—and when my Dad was away at work or on a business trip, she was in charge. Actually, she was pretty much in charge when my Dad was around as he was a “very kind, laidback person.” (Don’t get me wrong, I did see him get mad a few times, but in general…he was not one to explode.)
Of what I remember, my Mom was home every day when I got off the bus; I had a habit of running to the end of our driveway… and then casually walking into the house, letting her know I was home. My first words, “I’m hungry.” If you saw me at age 6, you knew I couldn’t be that hungry as I was a pretty large boy.
“I know that's just the way it is
When you think you grown but you're still a kid
And you don't know you're somebody
That somebody loves more than themselves
And there's a beauty in the innocence
Of not knowing that the time they've spent
Is more than one could ask for
And that's a special kind of love
And it's only there for a lifetime, then it's gone.”
My Mom, as I have said before, was “My First Love.” Sure there have been other “loves” since coming into this world, but I know for sure when I came out, her first thoughts were…”welcome to our family and I love you.” I don’t remember when it started, but she had a nickname for me— she called me, “Mr. Moke.” I have no where it came from, but I remember checking to see if it was available on Missouri license plates when vanity plates became available. In the end I was too cheap, and just went with whatever was sent to me—-a hodgepodge of letters and a few numbers. I should have gone with the vanity plate, she would have loved it.
She loved her family—-and it was unconditional. Sure, there were times when I disappointed her, but she never held anything against me and fortunately had a fleeting memory. One time I actually thought she was going to wash my mouth out with soap—this was a very popular saying when I was growing up, and it was really close to happening. I talked my way out of it….always the sales guy! (Fortunately she didn't "break my neck" like she would threaten, that would have been more permanent.)
“And it's bye mom
You can drop me off down the block around the corner square
Oh, my bud is waiting for me just over there
I’ll see you later on
Bye mom it's a cap and a gown in a brand new town eight hours away
Don't cry, I'll be okay.”
Since I was the youngest, I know there was relief, and sadness, when I went off to college; now that I am on the verge of this happening with our last child, although still a couple of years away, I know it will change my life and my wife’s forever. I suspect we will look at one another and wonder how this all happened so fast?
My Mom didn’t go to college—many women her age married young, had a family and lived a much different life than we do today. I am so thankful she decided to devote so much of her life to me, my brother, sister and Dad. Thank you Mom—and thanks for making mushroom and barley soup—-it’s still my favorite and it’s all because you took the time and care to do it.
And bye mom, I sang a million morning at the Brine Street baptist church
And bye mom, I waited hours and hours till she got off of work
And bye mom, I stood and cried and laid a rose onto her grave
And bye mom, were the last words that I spoke before we sang Amazing Grace
And it's only there for a lifetime, and it’s “Bye Mom.”
Okay, if anyone has ever heard me sing, and is aware of my religion, you know I never sang a million songs in a church. But one song I know she loved was a song sung every year on Yom Kippur. It’s Kol Nidre. Many, if not most of you, have no idea of what I am talking about—-but when I hear it every year, my thoughts turn to her and I know she is enjoying it from far above. Even thought she loved it, I never sang it. You're welcome Mom, I saved you some pain by keeping my mouth shut.
My Mom was spirited and fun; when we learned on my birthday all those years ago that “something was wrong,” I was hoping that everything would be okay; but it wasn’t, and we had to say, “Bye Mom” way too soon.
The photo above was taken about 9 years before my Mom left us; I prefer to remember her this way than those last days...memories are gifts you keep, and this one is under lock and key.
Barbara Ellen Rosenbaum passed away on November 18, 2009. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about her, or my Dad; I know they are proud of the family they created and for sure are having mushroom and barley soup with friends and family all while watching over us.
“Bye Mom.”
Thanks for stopping by.
