One of my favorite photos of my mother--Gladys Irene Lovette Hudson. Wasn't she pretty? Mama was born the first of six children February 8, 1929 to Austin Henry and Minda Eulala Higgins Lovette. She had four sisters and one brother. She married at 18 to James Earl Trivette and had my (half) brother Jim and sister Suzy. They divorced, gosh--guess about 1954?? Then she married my father in 1957 and I was born in 1958 and Mel in 1960.
Mama left us in 1990--been so long ago now but I still miss her so much. I don't think a day goes by even today that I don't think of her. She, as I guess all mothers do, had a profound effect on my life. How I wanted to please her!
This photo was taken by my brother Jim at a cookout at my aunt and uncle's Alton and Madge Absher (Mama's sister) about 1974. Best I can calculate, she'd be about 45 years old in this photo. It's a rare good picture of her--few were taken back then and if it weren't for Jim taking a photography class and acquiring a camera in college we wouldn't have any, period! This is also rare because she looks so good--happy--like life was good and she was content--also rare. I have a copy of this photo at my desk and I like to think Mama's here with me seeing and loving me and my children. She never even met Grant but she sure loved Olivia. And fortunately Livvie was five when Mama died so she does have memories of her--Mama keeping her while I worked and giving her a piece or two of her costume jewelry which tickled little Livvie.
How do I miss her? Let me count the ways....anytime I'm gardening how I'd love to be able to ask her what I should plant where--she had so much knowledge here. She loved wild flowers and worked very hard in her wild flower garden and she and Daddy spent many a happy weekend scouring the mountain sides hunting for those elusive blooms. And cooking--man, could she ever cook those simple southern, country meals! Sewing, knitting and any type needle work--Mama was a paragon of talent in this area. She won many ribbons for her work. Science--especially astronomy--this fascinated her and she studied it and watched every special on TV. She was an avid reader and could easily read three or more books a week. She was an exceptional, what was called back then, secretary. She typed at least 80 wpm and was a whiz at dictation. Grammar, punctuation, spelling--expert. I ALWAYS had her edit every paper I ever did.
In so many ways and every day, I miss my mother.
Another memory from Mama's last years--Olivia sticking her gum up her nose!!--seems like Mama had given her gum and Olivia didn't want me to know (?) and to hide it she put it up her nose? Days go by and while I'd noticed her nose was stopped up and just assumed it was a cold--just happened to see something in her nose while she was lying down and thought it looked odd and asked the stinker about it and she confessed her mischievousness! Did Dr. Gulden ever have a time grabbing hold of it!!
A fairly good pic of my father, Smith Richardson Hudson, taken about 1974 or so. He was the baby of eight children and was born February 12, 1933. So he'd be about 40 here. Daddy died so young--he was 54. It's taken me most of the last twenty years to come to a place of forgiveness for him (and him for me, posthumously, of course) and LOTS of introspection, examination, and analysis. Daddy had the disease of alcoholism and it affected every aspect of his life. It was an evolution, a coming together of several different forces at work in me--Al-Anon, family of origin work, a spiritual journey, journaling, maturing, finding compassion, understanding the disease concept of addictions, etc. for me to be able to say: my father was a good man with a bad disease. He never set out to be a bad father nor to hurt us in any way. Instead, he was gripped by his disease and it dominated every thing in his life.
Many years ago, at least ten, something unknown to me now, motivated me to do some work on forgiving my father and I composed a list of his qualities/attributes/assets. It was cathartic and a huge first step in the process that ultimately got me where I can think of him with fondness and not bitterness. He was kind and (overly) generous. He was a great story-teller and joke teller. He loved nature of all kinds but was also an avid hunter and fisherman. Loved sunsets. He was a gifted artist like his mother and late in his life did some good water colors. He was also a gifted dentist--there are still many a folk in Wilkes walking around with crown and bridge work my daddy did in the sixties! He had a very tender heart--I remember many times watching shows like The Waltons and Little House on the Prairie--gosh, even Bonanza and he and I both would be crying! He had SO much potential. Imagine taking four children--two of which were babies, packing up and moving to Chapel Hill and going for four years to dental school--what an accomplishment! And they had NO money, living like paupers but ironically Mama always said the Chapel Hill years were her happiest years. So he had drive, ambition, courage, tenacity and obviously smarts about him. Potential crushed by his disease. Daddy, blessedly, had three years of sobriety and my memories from those precious years, I cling to. It's the five years after that lead up to his death that haunt me. And the reason I had to do a lot of hard work spiritually to feel he'd forgiven me for treating him so miserably. I was so angry at him! I was sick--as sick as him and had no professional support at the time--just doing the only thing I knew to do--try to manipulate him into quitting drinking. I've forgiven myself and know he forgives me too. A good man. A good man with a bad disease. Simple.
