I was born in 1950. Before the time of Leave It To Beaver or Father
Knows Best.
Once television became big and expanded with family shows, no
doubt we all compared our own homes to those of the Cleavers and
the Youngs. I would venture to say, 9 out 10 fathers went to work
everyday making the family money while the mothers stayed home
making the dinner. In our home, we were no different. Our mother
cooked, cleaned, shopped, and of course ran us from baseball to
dancing and all other activities. This father was involved with my
brother and scouting, other than that, I rarely remember him being
involved in daily activities. Only mother.
Gosh, the great Birthday's, Christmas, and other holiday's
welcomed by our family seems straight out of Norman Rockwell. As I
began to mature the thought of my family being disfunctional was not
on the horizon. Ask me if in 1960 we were the Cleaver family and I
would answer "Yes" without hesitation. It would be in the later 1980's
before I realized my family was just as normal as other's and was
absolutely not the Young's or the Cleaver's. We were, An American
Family.
The bread winner went off in his own direction to make a fortune for
the family instead of sticking with a company and waiting on that
pension. Pension, who needs that when I am so young and vital and
can make money on my own. Money was made, but spent like
water. As for money, in 1970, it was not high on the list of
importance. As long as the roof was over the head and food in the
kitchen it was of no interest. But sooner than later it came to the
family attention, the sperm had a spending problem. Not on alcohol
or drugs, but yet junk and tools and anything he felt he needed. Want
to buy a business, buy it. Of course in time if your not putting in more
than your spending, you will eventually greet proverty or at the very
least hard times.
During our youth, both my brother and I felt we were given good
traits and values. High morals and Christian faith ever present in our
home, helped both of us to have extreme highly appreciated work
ethics as adults; borderline, work-a-holics. Both loved our
professions and worked hard to be over-achievers in our given
trades. Pulling from the years in the Air Force, my brother would be
of a technical background, while I went in the sales direction, both
being extremely successful. Both began having our own Cleaver
families.
One day our mother had a heart attack and we were summoned to
the table we shared so many times for family dinners. But instead of
dinner, we were met with a gun. For five hours we saw a gun in our
face and the devil sitting across from us. It wasn't enough to be in
shock from the gun, but the words coming forward knocked us to our
knees. We were told how much we were hated. Hated by the sperm
from the day we were born. Shock, hurt, scared, confused,
unbelievable, all describe our feelings. Funny but until that day, the
devil was a mystery to me but afterwards a picture with big red eyes
and long tail seem fitting. I actually visualized the flames
as they appear around him.
As we handled the situation as the Cleavers would, moving forward
in time, ever present in the mind was the clear picture of the horned
one.
Going through ones life, of Christian faith, we all learn to forgive. So
forgiveness, was in our heart but never did we forget in our minds.
Happy Days, joined the television shows and our children lived much
like the show. We had teens and tweens. Faithful to our parents,
we had loving dinners, holidays, vacations, and simple spur of the
moment, bacon, lettues, and home grown tomato sandwiches.
The Cleaver's lived on. They lived a lie until 2007. In 2007 the
curtain came down.
My brother battled the curse of cancer and lost his fight in
February of 2008. This loving and Godly man was my friend and my
brother. We always would take on the evil one together. My mother
was my best friend, as so my daughter. But my mother could not
take the passing of her baby boy. In October of 2008, the evil one
placed her in a nursing home, with Alzheimer.
Of course if we were the Walton Family on Little House On The
Prairie, that could never happen. The Walton's we were not. Instead,
I received a phone call one day. Sadly I was informed the office was
holding a box and some papers which had been dropped off. The
box was my mothers urn. I almost dropped the phone. It
appeared she continued, he had divorced her and sold the family
home, dropped off her urn, and informed the social worker, he was
no longer to be called, as he was no longer responsible. Further, he
had been stealing her money fro the Medicare and Medicaid and
leaving the nursing home empty handed. The social worker
continued that several months were not paid to them for my mothers
care. The evil one, has vanished.
Leaving nothing behind. Not one item of family history. After 67 years
of marriage and deserting her after she had loved him all her life,
what does this say about marriage and family. He too, is a
Sociopath. Leaving in the night, sneaking away!
Before my brother went to be with his Lord, he told me the way he
got through that day of the gun, "when he walked out the door
afterwards, that was the day his father died." So, for the rest of his
life, my brother, considered his father dead. Today, I just consider
him to be a sperm!
I am now my mothers guardian and I shall hold her hand and walk
with her to the gates of heaven. This terrible disease has only one
good thing I can consider, she is unaware he has abandoned her
after living a lifetime with him.
The other day while visiting with my mom, I looked into her eyes
and had a thought. When we look at each other and she draws me
close and gives me a kiss and tells me how much she loves me, I
know in 1950 when they placed me in her arms after my birth, she
nor I would think or know, but in 2010, God would place her in my
arms to hold and take care of, as she did for me in 1950.
I Love and Thank You Mom, for being June Cleaver all my life.
Thank you God, for letting her still remember me as her loving and
caring baby girl. I am now in her mind, back to being her young
child. I pray everyday for My God to be merciful.
SK Covey
