Murraytalk

My Mother My mother was a quiet and timid woman when my father was around. I'm not sure if her quietness was fueled by submissiveness or fear, but I was always in awe of how in control she was. It didn't matter how horrible the words were that were being spewed at her, she never fought back. Maybe she knew nothing good would come from adding fuel to the fire - we all had witnessed his rants leading to him waving his gun and threatening to shoot. I didn't understand until I was in my mid twenties that his words and gun were his way of controlling each of us. He was a powerless and weak man that never loved himself or freed himself from his guilt and shame. Controlling was all he had, and maybe my mother allowed him to have that. She had more strength than any woman that I have met thus far. I'm not saying her choices were always good, but she had a lot of shit come her way, and not once did I see her crumble. Never did I hear her cry poor me, or ask for anything. Sh...

My mother met my father in New Mexico shortly after he was released from prison is the story that I was told. My mother had six children when they met - one she had given to a cousin, and the other five lived with her, my uncle, and grandfather. I was born in New Mexico and lived there until I was a year old. We relocated to Tucson after three of my half siblings died in a fire at my grandfathers home while my mother was out for the evening. I was with my father when the fire took place. My Uncle and several firefighters fought hard to save everyone that night. My mother made the front page of the paper as the mother that showed no emotion when hearing the news of the death of her children. I still have that tattered yellow paper today. My father, mother, myself, and my two half sisters started our new life in a barrio in Tucson. Our family stood out because we were the only inter-racial family, and my father was very flamboyant. He always drove a new Cadillac and adorned himself ...

I had to look at the date of my last blog, which was Aug. 2016 to remember the last time I took a few minutes of my time to sit and share my thoughts. Five months is a long time and quite a few changes have occurred for me. The most recent is finding out that I would no longer be watching three of my grandchildren. (I have 11) I have been watching this set consistently for the past seven years - partially because my son was in active addiction during those years. I found out through the slip of the tongue from my seven year old granddaughter that they were opting out of continuing to bring them to me. I felt a mixture of emotions, but anger was my initial feeling and the most difficult for me to get past because I felt that I deserved more. I deserved a conversation, and I deserved gratitude; both of which I didn't receive. I ended up initiating the conversation because in order for me to have peace I have to confront situations that don't settle well in my soul. I expresse...