A Mom's Love

 

Many conflicting emotions run through your mind when news of the death of someone who’s been part of your life reaches you.

 

Disbelief... numbness...a kick in the teeth...heartbroken...confused...in shock.....relief...

 

It’s hard to know exactly how to feel. Or supposed to feel. Depending on the circumstances and intimacy of the relationship, processing the loss becomes a mosaic of mostly sad, uncertain and shifting emotions. And so it goes. I haven't seen Glenna for nearly 30 years, but when I heard about her sudden passing on Tuesday the news hit me like getting whacked over the head with a 2x4.

 

I haven't seen Glenna for nearly 30 years, but when I heard about her sudden passing this past Tuesday the news hit me like getting whacked over the head with a 2x4. During the often turbulent time between post-college, and before my head was on straight, Glenna was like a second mother to me. It was a difficult time; feeling distant from my own mother, detached from family in general, and trying to move into young adulthood basically alone. Some, dare I say most, manage to do make this transition really pretty easily; I wasn’t. But instead of leaving me to fail, God sent someone to come along and walk me through the struggle: Glenna and her family.

 

The Huston’s and I lived close by in the same northwest Spokane. My place was at the corner of West Columbia and North Cedar; theirs was a block over on North Walnut Street, right across from Ridgecrest School. Actually, it was their oldest boy, Kenny, who found me first. He delivered the afternoon paper, which I didn’t take. But he kept hounding me to buy a subscription until I did. The kid was a go-getter, when it came to his paper route, anyway. But also a typical rug rat, mouthy but likable. And not very politically correct, either.

 

When Kenny finally broke me down and I agreed to take the paper from him, the first time he came to collect we had an interesting exchange. He stood inside my doorway as I wrote out my check, and without fear or hesitation, asked if I was married, had any kids or was gay. In that order. ”But it doesn’t matter if you are, gay that is. My mom was just curious.“  That was my unofficial introduction to Glenna. When I asked her about this weird conversation after we'd become friends, she smiled, with a touch of embarrassment, and fessed up. "Sorry. I thought you might be a pervert or something" Really? "Sorry. I'd just been thinking out loud. I didn’t really care. Okay, maybe I thought you might be a weirdo. But I didn’t tell him to ask you that. He just did it on his own.”

 

However, Glenna's concerns weren't necessarily an unreasonable assumption. I was a young male with no sign of a mate, newly moved in, kept odd hours and my drapes closed. Most of the time, anyway. Of course, I was also working three jobs then, and when not on duty someplace was more than likely trying to sleep. But as a mother of three, I understood why Glenna’s protective instincts might have initially kicked in. Still, when Kenny first asked, I wondered if maybe I'd moved into the wrong neighborhood. But once it’s been clearly established that I was a totally harmless, gainfully employed and semi-respectable goofball, Glenna and I shared a good laugh over her mistaken first impression.
 

“You may be a lot of things, but you're not weird and you're certainly not boring.” High praise, indeed, considering I always believed I'd been spawned by the dullest two people on the planet. Though they weren't Mike and Carol Brady, Glenna and her mischievous husband Skeeter, (given name, Allen) were the kind of parents every kid wished their own were like- laid back, firm when necessary, affable, didn't take themselves too seriously and fun. Skeeter and Glenna were definitely fun. And along with their three free-spirited children and Nanna, the big black dog in the driveway, the Huston's were the quintessential all-American, all-groovy family.

 

Though I wasn’t raised cool and there wasn’t much of it stamped into my own DNA, nevertheless the Huston’s, Glenna in particular, made me feel cool- I guess in this case, accepted might be a better term- because she made me feel like one of her own, part of their family. She kind of ‘adopted’ me and, in my book, that really was cool. And while I don't want to appear disrespectful or ungrateful (though I know it's going to sound that way anyway, God forgive me), but after spending so much of my youth trying to pretend I wasn't part of my own family, it felt good to finally feel like I belonged to the Huston's.

Skeeter and I coached Kenny's Little League team (along with another family friend, Mike Kirwin), and enjoyed it so much, the three of us coached together for three consecutive years. It was hard not to like Skeeter, a guy who went through life with an impish twinkle in his eye and smart-ass remark on his lips. But if he liked you, it was all in fun and he didn’t mean it; if he didn’t like you, he just meant it and didn’t care. I loved watching him carve up somebody he didn’t particularly care for who never seemed to catch on. The manner in which Skeeter suffered fools was quite an art form.

 

Never a buzzkill and always a million laughs to hang with, I enjoyed every minute in his company. I also knew Skeeter Huston as a man who took his job, family and role of father seriously. Even to me. Whenever I had something to get off my chest man-to-man, he was always there and ready to listen. In fact, he was the one who encouraged me to get off my butt and take the job at KNCO in Grass Valley, when it was the last place on Earth I wanted to go. Changed my whole life, though- and for the better. And though he'd never say it because it was too mushy, Skeeter treated me as an extra son. I've never forgotten that.

 

Then there was Glenna, Skeeter's curly, red-headed housewife, and Team Mom during the Little League years. She not only doted on Skeeter and her three little Huston’s, but after letting me into their lives kind of doted on me, too. And I loved it. We became friends about the time I began working overnights at KGA. And in the early months (before discovering the amazing properties of amphetamines) I was having a lot of trouble staying awake. Glenna, though an ardent non- KGA listener (she was a rocker that hated country music) would often tune in, though, just to see how I was doing. And on nights she heard exhaustion in my voice, she'd sympathetically keep me engaged in conversation so I'd remain alert. We’d sometimes talk half the night. Good thing; there were a few times she saved me from nodding off between songs.

Then knowing I had no social life because of my job(s), she thought it'd be a great idea if I joined a mixed bowling league. And to keep me from backing out she joined with me. It was a winter league and every Monday night at 8 between October and April, we'd head over to Lilac Lanes together and bowl three lines before I went off to work, missing only the random nights when KGA shuffled my shift from overnights to evenings. We bowled on a team with three other people- none very good and one (after the second week) a chick Glenna wanted me to date. Ever the Mom, it seems that was the primary reason she got me involved- to meet somebodies of the opposite sex. To bring me out of my shell. To see me happy. But the girl, Chelsea, and I had nothing in common outside of bowling and, though we went out once, there really was nothing there, there. 

 

But when I had trouble with my own Mom-- who even at long distance could somehow manage to ruin my day-- Glenna was always there to pick me up and help me bounce back. But one time Mom came to Spokane for a visit. It was the first time she's been to my place and I wanted so badly to make a good impression. So much so, that Glenna came over and assisted in the clean-up. And when we were done, my little house was as spic and span as the day I moved in. However, I’d spent so much time making the house and yard look good, I'd neglected making time for the really important stuff. Like getting my hair trimmed. And that's all Mom noticed during the 24 hours she was in Spokane.

It was so disappointing. I wanted to put my fist through the wall. And after dropping her off at the airport, I sat in the Huston's kitchen pouring out my tale of Mom-woes as Glenna poured coffee. When I was done rambling, she sat across the table and looked me in the eye and put the issue to rest. "Ya know, a hundred years from now, who'll give a damn?" She said it with a straight face before breaking into that wonderful smile and continuing her thought.

"Look, your Mom doesn't mean to be on your case, she can't help it. She's a Mom. Doesn't matter if you're 5, 25 or 65, you'll always be her kid and she'll always want what's best for you. I think her approach is wrong, but I'm not her- or your Mother- so I can say whatever I want. And I say, screw it, okay? Live. Be happy. You're fine, your hair is fine, you have friends that adore you and we love you. Now shut up, drink your coffee and get out of here." And then she laughed. And so did I, then went home feeling like somebody cared about me, really cared.

 

But that was just Glenna. She and Skeeter gave freely of their time and resources, and love, without asking anything in return. They were sweet salt-of-the-earth souls who'd give you the shirt off their back and then ask if you wanted a pair of shoes, too. When I needed help with a project, or was short on groceries, or was sick, or even if I needed a little money, Skeeter and Glenna were always there. Or if I was feeling left out, like during the holidays, they included me in their holiday. They made me feel like I belonged, and the years in that Spokane neighborhood and living around the corner from the Huston's became some of the best years of my life.

 

Skeeter and Glenna were an awesome couple and made a great team. He admired her as much as she looked up to him, and it was obvious. They made their marriage and their relationship look easy, even though, as I know from even my own experience that it probably always wasn't. But they worked well together and I really respected them. Not just that, I grew to love them. They were good and decent folks who out of the goodness of their hearts, took a loser like me and made me feel like a winner. And they didn't have to. And now they're gone. Skeeter in 2006, Glenna this past Tuesday.

As I left work with tidings of her death still on my mind, my heart felt heavy and detached and weighted down by despair. Disbelief... numbness...a kick in the teeth...heartbroken...confused...in shock.....relief...I felt all those things, even relief, if only because Glenna went quick and is once more united with her beloved Skeeter. Driving through the dreary evening, a gloomy rain was falling and following me home which, knowing how I felt somehow seemed appropriate. But I’ll never forget Skeeter and Glenna Huston, especially Glenna. It seems odd to me now, too, how I sometimes felt so much closer to somebody else's Mother than my own. But Glenna wasn't just a mother; she was a Mom. And at that juncture in my life I needed a Mom's love in a way that my own Mom simply couldn't provide. God knew that, I think, and I think that's why, for a season He gave me Glenna.

And God gave Glenna to Kenny, Jason and Jeremy, too. And for four years I got to observe first-hand what a loving maternal relationship should look like. And what I sometimes believed I'd missed out on. Of course, during my days of latent rebellion, it was easy to think that. The grass always looks greener from the other side, and today I do miss my Mom and knew she loved me and cared for me the best she knew how. And Glenna only knew me as a young adult, so trying to compare her to my own Mother is unfair.

 

But I do know how she felt about her own boys and this is what I wrote to Kenny in the wake of Tuesday's news  "...Ya know, you got to have what many people never achieve: a life-long wonderful loving relationship with your Mother..Thru this difficult time of grieving, never lose sight of that, cherish her memory and know she's looking down on you guys right now and smiling, proud of the legacy she left behind in her three great sons….blessings, my friend.."

I hope Kenny and his brothers take that to heart, although I know these next few weeks and months will be difficult, especially with that first Mother's Day without her coming up next month. Life is never going to be the same again for them, and that's sad. But they're strong kids, good kids and well-grounded.  Glenna and Skeeter gave them the right balance of enough rope, discipline and emotional nourishment to thrive and do well in life. And they have. And though the world is a little darker now that Glenna's light has gone out, the sun will shine on her boys again. Sooner than later. Of that, I have no doubt. They'll be fine. 

As for me, it’s amazing how hard this news hit me. Glenna didn't do Facebook or Twitter, but Kenny would pass on greetings for me, and though we hadn't talked for a long time I always promised to call or write her a letter. Soon. But I never did. And I feel bad- especially now- because I wanted to tell her the things I’m writing about today: how much she meant to me.

 

When I was young and screwed up and trying to make my way in the world, Glenna was there with a smile, a hug, a joke, a meal or phone call to shake off the set-backs and keep my spirits up, day or night. Her encouragement made me feel important and valued and, yes, even loved. And if there are angels among us, Glenna was definitely one of them. But I hope I haven’t let her down, or failed her for not getting around to telling her any of that. Yet somehow, without me saying a word, I think she probably already knew. Mom's are just like that. I think she knew and I think she'd forgive me.

 

So God bless you, Glenna Huston, and thank you-- for everything. Go with my love and rest in peace, my dear. You did good.