They say a bond between a mother and a son can never be broken.
That the comfort a mother can offer her son with just a single touch can never be duplicated.
That no love can match the love between a mother and son. No matter the physical distance between them.
For a mother will always be there for her son. Be it physically, mentally or spiritually. Her soul will never let her son walk alone.
And while this is true of most mothers and sons a son can only have one mother. Only one special soul to look out over, to comfort, to guide and to love them. You Frances Cooke are that special soul to me and everyday I thank God for that. I love you. Happy Mother’s Day
Your son Carl
When I look into the mirror of my soul and am brutally honest with myself I see flaws. Imperfections that annoy some people. But here’s the thing, not one of us is perfect and if the whole of ourselves is righteous and kind then at the end of the day we’re ok. Of course I strive to better myself each day but fundamentally I am who I am and I’m happy with that. If you choose to accept who I am join me on my journey if not I wish you good luck on yours.
Open yourself up and be quiet now for it is raining. Let your body be still and listen closely
and you will hear. There are those who curse the rain unable or unwilling to process its pure essence. Rain talks to us, it cleanse the earth, it cleanse the soul. No one shower is quite like another. Let your eyes gaze upon the beauty of the sky as it randomly lights up from the bolts of lightning. Feel the cool upon your skin on a sultry summer day. Hear it’s yell as it unleashes its booming thunderclaps, hear it’s soft whisper as its drizzle touches down beneath our feet. Allow yourself to open all your senses it and you will understand it. You will feel it’s very essence deep within your soul. Rain is nature’s way of talking us, showing us her power and beauty. Guiding us through the darkness, providing the elements that can both wash away the past and seed a new beginning. So open yourself up and be quiet now for it is raining and there is nothing more beautiful than that.
I close my eyes and listen for the silence. I have subconsciously transported my soul, my inner self, to another level. A level where I am all alone, where nothing or no one can touch me. It is here where I find my peace unburdened by expectations, free to speak, even if no one is listening, my feelings, unafraid of what obstacle a higher power has deemed I must jump over this time. Here I feel free a sense of calm. There is no show to put on for others, no feelings to hold on to so as not to offend others, no worries about the next setback. Here I can just be me. But I know I can not stay in this place. So I open my eyes and the light shines through, the noise is all around and I am transported back to reality. It is back to who I am or who I pretend to be. Others will live their lives unencumbered by who I’m really am. They will live with only a hint of the true me that slips out from time to time. I guess that is the way it must be for as Mr. Spock once said the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few and I am the few.
Two people, one for the outside world to see one for only me to know. The outside world sees the smile, the upbeat optimism that makes it seem nothing can ever bring me down. But inside I’m hurting, wondering what I did to deserve this lot in life. Feelings of loneliness flood over me even when I’m in a room full of family and friends. Thoughts of dread preoccupy my mind. The slightest mention of you don’t look good or the question what’s the matter with you is met with the response I’m fine or nothing. But the truth is the question itself is frightening and I don’t want to hear it or think about it. Often times I’ll snap at the person asking the question. I know they ask out of concern but I’m tired of thinking about the negative and those questions just flood my mind with the negative.
Alas in the times when I’m feeling good there is no family to share the good times with and by family I mean MY family, a wife, children, grandchildren. I missed out on that, stupid decisions and wrong choices on my part I guess. This is just one more thing I bury deep inside. Because when I express it to family members they don’t understand the hole it has left in my soul, they feel as if I am not valuing them. That of could not be further from the truth I know how much they love me and I love them but as close as we are they’re not MY family not my wife, my children, my grandchildren. It’s something I have always dreamed I would experience in my life but never have. Instead I look on with jealousy as others share stories of their child’s success or even failures. Their lives with their spouses good and bad. Especially the bad because they found a way to work through it while it seems it was always easier for people to walk away from me. Am I that hard to love? Is it not worth the effort to try and make it work with me? Has anyone ever really loved me?
I have always been a believer in a higher power if not religion itself, after all who needs a third party to talk to God. But lately that belief has been shaken. I always tried to do the right thing. I always tried to live right. They say God doesn’t give you more than you can handle but you know what I’m getting pretty close to all I can handle.
Many times I am thankful for that other person, the side the outside world sees. He is filled with high self esteem and boundless optimism. Truth be told if I didn’t have that side to pull from I don’t know where I would be. Work is my refuge. It’s there I pour my heart into. It gives me purpose, I know I’m respected there, I know I’m good at what I do there. I don’t really know what I would do without it besides the obvious loss of income I wonder how losing it would impact my self esteem. Without it would I just fall into a pit of self despair. Again not something I share with anybody most times all you’ll get is the cliche answers – it could be worst, at least you’ve got better than (insert name), be thankful for what you have. Guess what I am thankful, I know it could be worst, I know others have it tougher. That doesn’t make it any better for me because I’m looking at how it impacts me and only me not someone else.
Anyway I know this post has been kind of all over the place I guess I just needed to vent. In the meantime i will lean on the happy side of me and hope things turn around after all I’m Carl Cooke damn it and at the end of the day nothing can stop me…at least I hope.
You read to me when I was a child. You wiped the blood from my knee and the tears from my eyes when I fell as a boy.
I am who I am because you were who you were.
You encouraged and believed in me when I was a teen. You were always there for me when i became a man. Through it all you put up with my nonsense and loved me unconditionally. You may be gone from this Earth but you walk with me everyday.
I am who I am because you were who you were.
You were: Loving, Caring, Demanding, Forgiving, Understanding, Supportive, Nurturing, and a million other things I could never list.
I am who I am because you were who you were and you were Frances Cooke my mother!
Saturday morning October 1, 1977 the sky is not blue in fact it’s very very grey and the rain has already started to fall. 11 year old Carl looked out the window sadden after all today was the day he was supposed to go to the big ballpark in the Bronx to see his favorite team the New York Yankees clinch the American League East. But my dad was not about to let a little rain ruin his son’s day. Let’s go he said and we headed out. We waited for the BX55 to 161st Street in the rain and while we waited and again on the ride my dad assured me that a little rain wasn’t going to ruin our day. We got to the Stadium and the tarp was still on the field, the thought that they would play a game was looking bleaker and bleaker. But then my dad said look at the scoreboard. Suddenly thousands of rain soaked fans were mesmerized by the scoreboard. Baltimore was playing Boston and if Baltimore won the Yankees clinched. It was starting to rain harder and my dad could easily have said we’re going home but he didn’t instead he said look at the dot (indicating which team was batting) it’s been on Baltimore for a while, they must be having a big inning (this is how we did it before smart phones) and when the scoreboard confirmed just that we would smile at each other and high five. Baltimore would eventually win 8-7 and the Yankees were AL East champions. My dad and I sat in the rain bonding over scoreboard updates and celebrating the Yankee winning the division without the Yankees ever taking the field. They eventually played the game, Yanks lost 10-7 to the Tigers, we were long gone by then but it didn’t matter because little 11 year old Carl was as happy as can be. My dad had assured me a little rain wasn’t going to ruin our day and he was right, he made sure of it. That why he was my dad!
HAPPY FATHER’S DAY CHARLES COOKE YOU WERE THE BEST!