M is For . . .
Paul Beckman
To my scrawny mother who had the left hook of a middleweight
To my mother who called me a liar every waking day
To my mother who told my siblings I wasn’t to be trusted
To my mother who got out of her housecoat and wore a borrowed dress to meet my soon-to-be in-laws
To my mother who told my fiancé she was the daughter she always wanted
To my mother who made me give her the bulk of my paper route money
To my mother who didn’t ask for money from my older brother because he’d need it for college
To my mother who didn’t believe I got good grades without cheating
To my mother who wrote me and told me she had cancer
To my mother who said “nothing, you’ve done enough” when I asked her how I could help
To my mother who went into remission
To my mother who complained about her chairs with the springs poking up
To my mother who never sat in the reclining lounge chair I bought and had delivered on her birthday
To my mother who complained about me to my younger brother who was doing drugs and hanging out in bars when he was underage while I was in Viet Nam
To my mother who I sent money to every month when I was in the service making $78 a month
To my mother who I sent money to monthly when I got married and got a government job
To my mother who wouldn’t let me buy her gifts
To my mother who wrote that her cancer had come back
To my mother who told me she didn’t want to live when my bride and I moved back east
To my mother who I visited in the hospital every day after work but was too tired to talk to me, so I sat and talked to her
To my mother who finally got her wish and died on the one night I didn’t go to the hospital
To my mother who left me an envelope with a bankbook holding all the money I ever sent her over the years
To my mother who showed me by example how to be a martyr
Paul Beckman
To my scrawny mother who had the left hook of a middleweight
To my mother who called me a liar every waking day
To my mother who told my siblings I wasn’t to be trusted
To my mother who got out of her housecoat and wore a borrowed dress to meet my soon-to-be in-laws
To my mother who told my fiancé she was the daughter she always wanted
To my mother who made me give her the bulk of my paper route money
To my mother who didn’t ask for money from my older brother because he’d need it for college
To my mother who didn’t believe I got good grades without cheating
To my mother who wrote me and told me she had cancer
To my mother who said “nothing, you’ve done enough” when I asked her how I could help
To my mother who went into remission
To my mother who complained about her chairs with the springs poking up
To my mother who never sat in the reclining lounge chair I bought and had delivered on her birthday
To my mother who complained about me to my younger brother who was doing drugs and hanging out in bars when he was underage while I was in Viet Nam
To my mother who I sent money to every month when I was in the service making $78 a month
To my mother who I sent money to monthly when I got married and got a government job
To my mother who wouldn’t let me buy her gifts
To my mother who wrote that her cancer had come back
To my mother who told me she didn’t want to live when my bride and I moved back east
To my mother who I visited in the hospital every day after work but was too tired to talk to me, so I sat and talked to her
To my mother who finally got her wish and died on the one night I didn’t go to the hospital
To my mother who left me an envelope with a bankbook holding all the money I ever sent her over the years
To my mother who showed me by example how to be a martyr