I just saw a movie where the grandmother tells a child to remember his mother
(who has past on to a better place) as he knew her.
She said to try to remember her as he last saw her. That that memory would be never taken away from him.
That is a very wonderful luxury. I try to remember my mother, I have tried to find even a photo of her, but there is nothing.
There is an empty place is this mind, a place that is reserved to mom and pop. There is a pop but no mom.
How did this ever happen? I came from her; there are three of us that came from her.
Where is this mother that conceived us?
I remember my stepmother having of photo of her in my dad's photo album.
But it is lost and gone. My aunt sent me a photo of her but it a copy of a drawing that some street artist had
painted over a photo. It is hard to define it as a proper image.
This has troubled me from time to time. It comes up when my memory has been prompted from pictures and movies.
I do not remember my grandmother telling me to remember my mother as I remembered her.
Where is this place in my memory banks that stores those moments? These are moments that most of us take for granted.
Who ever conceived of the idea that a sixty-year-old son has no memory of his mother?
My mother had sister, can they laser beam their thoughts into this brain?
 
 

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