mom

Today is/was my Mom’s Birthday, she would have been 77 years old. Unfortunately, she didn’t make it to 61. I don’t sit down often and just think about her, but she’s never far from my mind. I don’t cry easily, I don’t cry often and when I do cry, it’s usually a handful of seconds. Most of my crying stems from memories of my mom. You never know when they will hit you, you never know what will cause them, but when they do, it’s instant tears.

For example. Over the summer I was at a camera event and they had a “build your own fragrance” station. I went over, and the way it works is you pick from three base scents and fill in with different notes after. The first scent was put in front of my nose and I said no. The second scent was a hard pass. And the third scent hit me like a ton of bricks. It was instant tears in my eyes and the inability to verbalize what was going on. Because if I did verbalize what was going on I would lose it.

The scent wasn’t a scent that reminded me of my mom, but I think it was the smell of perfume in general that did it. It took me back, it brought all the emotions flooding in and out my eyes. Over the years I’ve found that smells have triggered memories faster than anything else.

The parts that upset me the most about my mom not being here, are the things she missed and will miss. She didn’t get to see me become a success. I didn’t see myself as successful when she died, but I do now. She didn’t get to see her grandchildren. She won’t be there to walk me down the aisle if I ever get married. She won’t be there to hold my child, if I ever have one. She won’t be there to try and teach them, like she tried to teach me. It’s the wont’s that get me more than anything else.

I wasn’t a great son back then. I took her for granted. I took all the things she did for us as a family for granted. I didn’t spend enough time getting to know her on a deeper level. I write about this in Book 2, that while I was on tour in 2007, we started to communicate while I was away via email. We were having actual adult to adult conversations, vs mother to son. It had the start of what the future could have been, but at the time I didn’t recognize it.

I’ve never been great with sharing my emotions face to face. I tend to have trouble keeping eye contact, I tend not to say the things I truly want to say because they scare me, or I’m worried someone will perceive what I am saying the wrong way. But when I sit down and write my feelings out, they flow more naturally. I’m able to calm my brain and articulate my thoughts much easier.

My mom was crafty, she was an artist, she played the piano, she sang, she liked to learn. One of the favorite things she got into was, erotic chocolate. Yes, you read that right, erotic chocolate. She bought chocolate molds in the shapes of penises and breasts. Some were large, some were small. Some became dicks on a stick, others became cocks in a box. In fact, I would give my college teachers the ones in the box just for fun.

I wish she was still here, because I would totally go into business mode around her erotic chocolate. She would have been HUGE in the “cock in a box” and “dick on a stick” online world. I could have built her a special chocolate making kitchen and watched her grow.

Unfortunately, back then I was more selfish and focused on myself. I didn’t make it easy on her, I fought everything and now it’s too late to go back.

She loved photography, she was the photographer in the family. She generally used a point and shoot, but when I started to become better and better at photography, I got her an SLR and a lens. But what I didn’t give her, was my time. I didn’t stop and say, “lets go on a shoot today” and help her become better. I failed there and I failed bad. That might be the subconscious reason I decided to give away all the knowledge and teach the world photography. I failed her, but I’ve helped tens of thousands of people discover photography.

Remember at the end of the movie AI, when the aliens are talking to David and they say they can bring back a human, but only for one day. I sit and wonder what 24 hours with my mom would be like today. If I had 24 hours with her, I would have to apologize first and foremost and then thank her. Thank her for helping mold me into who i’ve become. There’s a lot of her in me. From the standing up or speaking up for the people who do not have a voice, or are afraid to use their voice. To wanting to teach the world and of course, dancing to the beat of my own drum. Without her, there’s no me and who I’ve become and furthermore, who I will be tomorrow.