I HAVE HER EYES

I HAVE HER EYES

Tears and all

You could say shock and bewilderment were two emotions I felt when I looked in the mirror. Growing up, I knew, except for my blue eyes, I had my dad’s features. My mom often said there could never be any doubt I was Frank’s daughter. However, I inherited my blue eyes from my mom. My mom was such a beautiful looking woman and dad? Well, dad was so handsome. Yeah, I inherited the best from both of them.

Today, however, I saw something I didn’t expect. What I saw looking back at me was the sad, tired, and worn eyes of a woman whose life wasn’t easy. I saw my mom’s eyes.

The sight had me taking a step back and reflecting on her life and mine. They were different in so many ways and yet, each held their own hardships and sadness.

Dad joined the Navy in 1944 and Mom married him two months later . She was 23 years old. I married my first husband in 1966. I was 19.

Six months before he shipped out to the Pacific arena, Dad came home on leave and mom got pregnant. Mom was alone to carry and deliver their first child.

Three months after I married, I announced I was pregnant. I never felt more alone. I was supposed to be reveling in the thought of bringing a new little life into our family. Yet, the first thing he said to me was, and this is a direct quote) “They have operations to fix things like this.”

First of all, my baby was not a thing! And he or she belonged to both of us. Yet, he showed no interest.

Dad came home from the war and was overjoyed at having a son. My husband ignored his.

A year later, mom announced another pregnancy. Again, dad was thrilled. When I announced mine, he slammed the door on his way out and came home roaring drunk.

Mom’s only sadness regarding her pregnancies was the fact that, at first, dad was in the Navy and the second time, he worked hard hours to make ends meet. My sadness came from the fact that my children’s father wanted nothing to do with them.

Years passed. Dad’s job changed but still kept from home more hours than mom liked. She accepted it knowing this was his way of supporting his family. As my boys grew, their father became more distant from them. He ignored their sports and any other activities in which they participated.

One day, my brother received the dreaded letter. “You’ve been drafted.” He took his letter to the local enlistment office and asked how to change “draftee” to “enlistee.” Not a problem! Twenty-four hours later, mom had to kiss her only son goodbye as he boarded the bus for boot camp. Her heart broke a little more that day. It would be many months before she’d see her sweet, kind, handsome boy again.

I should correct that. She’d never see him again. Not the way he left.

Mom’s heart broke a bit more when her son was sent to Viet Nam.

Mine broke when my younger son was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease and a year later, my older boy was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis. Within one year, I almost lost both of them. It came close but thank God, they’re still around.

My brother came home from the war, physically intact but his mind was broken. He found it difficult to hold a job. No matter how he tried to build a life, no girlfriend would stay with him. Too many nightmares, they said,

Mom’s eyes held such sadness at the fate her son’s life had taken.

Mine tried to always look positive but mom asked me one day why I looked so sad.

We both had our worries.

While I didn’t have a husband to lean on, my sons, even though they were chronically ill, were my rock! The three of us built a family of strong ties. Yet, I often wondered, “what if their father had been a different man? What if he supplied my sons with a proper strong father figure?”

My dad was a huge influence for my brother. He took pride in going to school, getting a degree, serving his country. He often said if it hadn’t been for dad, he wouldn’t have made it.

When dad took ill, mom’s eyes were a bit sadder and much more bloodshot from loss of sleep and crying the tears she wanted no one to see.

When my young son was admitted to the hospital and I was told, “We’ll do everything we can to save him,” I did what my mom did. Cried in the shower.

Then in 1993, dad’s cancer decided it was time. There were no words since mom was afraid to speak. She wasn’t sure if words or tears would form. Mom was almost numb. Often, I looked twice to be sure she was still breathing. She sat so still.

Both my sons were there to help and support her. But the love of her life was now gone.

Two years later, my brother was rushed to the hospital. He refused to tell anyone he had liver cancer. We only found out the day he died.

That didn’t just break my mom’s heart. It shattered it.

I can still hear her screaming as she hugged his coffin, “My boy! My boy!” I never saw mom smile again.

Now all these years later, I look in the mirror and see mom’s tired, weary, and sad eyes looking back at me and I completely understand.

Yes, I understand her sadness, her loss, her loneliness. While I never experienced them personally, I was with her on every step of her journey.

There were many times, for one reason or another, she did her best to smile. But while she tried, that emotion never reached her eyes. You could almost see her sadness.

And now, looking back, I can just about feel her pain. And it saddens me that she’s no longer here for me to hold and support.