Mom



My faith, my dreams, my thoughts my heart
The foundation of all that I am, my start
The one at my lowest who still takes my hand
The reason after I've fallen I find the strength to stand...



http://www.upworthy.com/these-kids-finally-say-what-they-really-think-about-mom-and-her-reaction-priceless-9?c=ufb1

It's been over 13 months since I posted a blog to 'The State of Kulifay'. Call it laziness or lack of ambition. Call it a shortage of subject matter to inspire me. Call it really good television on nowadays. You might be partially correct in all of those but I believe it's deeper than that. Writing is my chosen form of expression but it also forces me to be honest with myself, and decide how much of that honesty I'm not only willing to acknowledge, but also share with others. All I know is I talk about writing as a form of therapy and yet I've allowed myself to go without treatment for so long. I guess I needed something I found worth writing about and in truth I've had one all along.

My mom. Sherry Aldridge Kulifay.

And today is her birthday.

I would start this by saying I've had a rough few years but to phrase it like that suggests I've been the victim of circumstances out of my control rather than the source of my own situations. I've made errors in judgement and failed personal responsibilities that have not only changed my life but, unintentionally or not, brought hurt and worry to those closest to me. Nothing malicious in nature but simply failing to address my own weaknesses or battle my own demons. And while I may have stumbled along my path, I cannot explain how much further I may have fallen during the course of my life without her guidance and unwavering support. My failures are my own. My victories have required the patience, grace and love of others.

I don't write this to discuss my shortcomings (blogs should only be so long) or delve into family history. But please understand that in addition to the love and support she has shown me through some of my most difficult times, I write this because there is a strength and resilience in my mother that I don't think even she is aware of. She has endured and overcome more than I can ever truly grasp and has only become more loving and faithful as a result. She has experienced hardship and become softer. She has felt pain and gained compassion. She has been tested and still believed. I believe God lives in hearts like my mother's and I pray that mine can be as such.

There's no list of adjectives that could adequately convey who my mother is or what she means to me. Just know that she is the best of me and she is what keeps me struggling against my weaknesses and fighting my demons. I am self aware enough to know that I would have fallen to the pitfalls and temptations of life, both great and small, in big decisions and the fleetest of moments, where I would have made choices that would have left me ashamed and broken. Less than the man I am and far short of the man I hope to be. It is the thought of her, my obligation as a son to her teachings and values, that has kept me on a (relatively) honorable path. She is what keeps me sane, keeps me fighting, keeps me from falling and so much more:

She's my friend

 

My coffee partner

 

My fellow movie critic

 

The one who teaches me to stop and smell the roses in life

 

A devoted wife



 

A loving mother and grandmother

 

A person of faith and family

 

And so many more things to me and everyone around her.

 

Like anyone who aspires to write, or draw, or paint or sing I wish I could express myself better. I wish I could capture my thoughts, emotions and gratitude in a way the reader could experience. I wish love had a measurement so she would know what she means to me. But my talents are limited, my gifts finite and my words insufficient. So, as usual, I count on her. I count on her to read the thoughts unwritten, hear the words unsaid and understand the feelings unexpressed. She is the reason I still take pride in who I am.

 

Trying to write about my mom is difficult because in a real way it's very much like trying to write about myself. There is a connection and understanding between us that is unique in my life.   My love of reading and movies. My wit. My caring for others. My sensitivity. My sense of humor. My appreciation for a good pumpkin spice latte'. The worrying and overthinking. These are all things that define me and come in great part from her. So part of this blog is a gift to her, and to myself: My pledge to start writing again. My pledge to do something that makes me more complete and utilizes a gift I've been given. My pledge to work on my weight and health so she doesn't have to worry about me so much. My pledge to focus on a healthier, happier life. My pledge to be better. My gift to someone who cares more about me than she does about herself is to take better care of myself, physically, spiritually and emotionally.

 

She is mom. And to me, that says it all.

 

Happy birthday. Thank you for everything. I love you.

 

- Johnny